


Blood Far Beyond Dry

by Vosueh



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Blood, Blood As Lube, Blood and Gore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Dissociation, Dissociation during sex, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Kidnapping, Kinda?, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nonverbal Communication, Pet Names, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Rough Sex, Sexual Assault, Stabbing, Traumatic Bonding, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, and... maybe love? tune in to find out, ghostface is a sadist but who is suprised, he just knows Violence and Lust, pyramid head doesn't know english, pyramid head doesn't understand relationships so he gets a pass because hes learning, set in the dead by daylight universe but stuck in a trial at midwich elementry, what other reason would ghostface be in this fic, yes the main character gets fucked by both ghostface and pyramid head, yikes... yeah you read that last one right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27732508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vosueh/pseuds/Vosueh
Summary: The Entity vanished three months ago. With it, the universe it created fell apart, leaving killers to overrun and survivors to do the best they could to keep living in a twisted and dangerous world.Lucasta was one of the many survivors to fall before Pyramid Head's path, but she's unlike all the previous sinners he's executed. Instead, he found her sinless and pure, lacking anything to atone for. Thus, he takes a dark interest in her, but his feelings are hard to express in manners other than violence and lust. Slowly but surely, despite their communication boundaries between them, they will find a way to understand each other.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Original Female Character(s), Ghostface (Scream)/Original Female Character(s), Pyramid Head (Silent Hill)/Original Female Character(s), Pyramid Head | The Executioner/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 97





	1. Innocent One

**Author's Note:**

> Okayy so this started as a desire to write pyramid head smut but this is what happened. I can not control these hands. Smut probably gonna be next chapter so this one could be an introduction.

The air had a cool and stagnant taste on the tongue, garnished with the thickness of the fog enshrouding Silent Hill. In wrought iron cages abound, mutilated bodies spasmed and convulsed, but Lucasta took solace in pretending they were as dead as they looked. If only death meant something meaningful in a place like this.

Midwich Elementary was a harrowing shell of itself when the Entity left, even more so than it already was. It was a mere simulacrum to begin with, a simulated reality of what the Entity _thought_ Midwich was. It fabricated a world to run its trials in over and over, pitting countless survivors against countless killers, taking pleasure in the abundance of agony this system outputted. But, this sick god of this twisted world must’ve gotten busy, or killed, or simply just bored of its own demented shell of reality. Lucasta assumed so, at least, since this trial hasn’t ended in almost three months now.

It’s still everlastingly night. It always was, it always is, it always will be. She tells time by the clock tower now, the only monument to the concept of time even still existing. The mutilated cadavers in those wretched cages still twitch, regardless. The blood-caked killers still stalk the realms, permanently. The dirty meat hooks still take away souls, forevermore.

Only this time, they don’t come back afterwards. Death is permanent now that the Entity isn’t resurrecting. The sacrifices are no longer scooped up into the sky, into the arms of the eldritch god of this purgatory; this god is dead, dead as those rotten corpses hanging aplenty from the meat hooks around. The ones that are still empty lie awaiting their own corpse one day. It is hopeful whenever Lucasta passes an empty hook, caked and encrusted with the crackled brown skin of old blood. It means someone, a survivor, got free from that hook before. It doesn’t necessarily guarantee they aren’t dead now, but it’s a wishful thought to hope as much. What else is there to hope for these days? She hasn’t even seen another human being in almost a month.

The realms have knitted close together, and if one repairs enough generators to escape, they’ll only find themselves wandering straight into a different realm, a Red Forest or an Autohaven Wreckage. Survivors freely wandered between worlds since the first day, since they learned very fast that repairing the generators meant no salvation for them. Few realms offered proper food or shelter, and every realm remained free for the killers to wander to as well. It took less than a week for the killers to vastly outnumber the survivors, and with their source of prey gone, they grew restless and agitated. Some returned to their home territories, or at least the shell of them that the Entity had fabricated. Some tried to live through their old routines, as if they still existed in this unhinged reality. At Yamaoka’s Estate, one can hear the Spirit wailing in her old room, refusing to leave from the only place left familiar, almost entirely harmless now as long as her old family home isn’t trespassed. 

Likewise, it’s ill-advised to wander too much into the Red Forest, since Huntress found refuge back in her old home as well. Those wandering her forest best hide or flee if they hear even a single note of her lullaby, though. Lucasta hears she kills any survivor in her territory, but won’t go out of her way to chase them down if they retreat. Not unless they’re a youthful girl; Lucasta heard horror stories of female survivors in their early twenties or late teens being stolen away by her. No one is quite certain what she does with the girls, but as Lucasta was a young twenty-year-old on the smaller side herself, she wasn’t about to risk being stolen away. Freddy Kruger had a similar reputation of snatching away young female survivors, but what he did with them was a bit more obvious.

Beside killers who had gone ‘dormant unless disturb’ — or Duds, as the survivors have been calling them— there are still those out with an insatiable bloodlust, yet to give up their hunt, Entity be damned.

Lucasta was driven out by some of the bloodlusting kind only recently. Lampkin Lane proved unpopular among the killers, and they neglected to visit or patrol the area often, so a couple of survivors and her took refuge for almost two months. But the blood must’ve been running dry in all the other realms, because she saw the pale faces of Micheal Myers and Ghostface starting to stalk through the bushes on their patrols. Her group jumped through a few exit gates and fled to Midwich Elementary in Silent Hill about a month ago to avoid them, as word has it Pyramid Head still remains in Silent Hill. Unlike others, he’ll attack any in his path, survivor or killer. It keeps the other killers at bay, at the expense of always navigating around the haunting Executioner roaming the place. But one killer is better than multiple killers, at this point.

At least, so they thought.

Within the first few days of their arrival, only Lucasta remained. No wonder no other survivor took refuge here; it was a horrid place. It is alive with organic matter pulsating and oozing, and the whole place reeked of putrefied remains. She missed humans, she missed warmth so much she spent hours curled around the few working generators there just to mooch a few degrees of heat from their engines.

When she’s not by a working generator, she hears him. She hasn’t seen him, not yet— she’s too careful to let that happen. But, in the quietest moments, in the hallways she’ll hear the unmistakable scrap of the Executioner's great knife into the floors of the school, reverberating in the distance.

Every waking moment her heart is racing. Without a group to take shifts sleeping, Lucasta now finds herself waking up constantly, unable to feel comfortable enough to relax.

_He’s coming. He’ll find you. He knows you’re here._

The paranoia rings inside her head wildly, and the clock strikes twelve outside. This is madness. This is hell.

Whenever she passes the bodies of her former group, her heart aches so deeply. One is moldering on a hook upstairs, the other was severed clean in half in the courtyard. She avoids both and cowers in the classrooms in fear, regretting to no end that they did solo patrols here. This isn’t like Lampkin Lane, solo patrols aren’t better for groups like it was over there. Here, it just lets him— that _thing—_ pick them off easier.

She hasn’t eaten in three days. Instead of gnawing her insides, her stomach was actually glad; the smell of death is so rampant here that it’s a miracle whenever she _does_ keep food down. The scarcity of food also doesn’t help though, and the crows here haven’t been getting caught in the traps she has made.

The clock bellows outside again, and she counts the bongs. Two? It’s already two. Where did the last couple hours go?

Wasted away like her friends in this horrible place. Wasted away like how she was wasting, right now, skeletonizing in place by this rumbling generator.

By the time it struck three o'clock, she found herself swaying up to her feet, delirious and weak. She has learned her lesson at Silent Hill. It was better at Lampkin Lane where she could at least get a lungful of air that wasn’t stagnant and decayed like it was here. Any place would be better than here; even death. 

Too weak, she must’ve been, shambling down the hallway clutched against the wall to not fall over. The fatigue and hunger must’ve gotten to her, leaving her mindspace in a constant state of lightheadedness, making her feeble journey that much more dangerous to get to the exit gates. The misery, the monotony of being all alone, it consumed her thoughts more than her senses did. So much so, that she didn’t even hear him when she turned the hallway corner, and saw the Executioner himself standing at the other end, etching his trails. On one end of his blade was both hands pushing it forward, on the other was a path of shattered tile splitting open to a bright crimson gash on the floor. It was an unnerving lurid red, more vibrant than the stains of blood adorning his dirty apron. That blood was instead crackled and darkened with age, forewarning it’s been a while since he has had fresh prey. Probably almost a month, since that was the last time she saw one of her friends in this forsaken place alive. 

He didn’t have eyes, but the way the front of the metal pyramid turned to look straight up at her felt more intense than any eye contact she’s ever had with another soul. The pyramid tilted slightly to the side, as if a head cocking in curiosity, surprised to stumble upon someone here.

All the adrenaline coursing through her veins pooled into her feet, and they felt hot and sweltering, frozen in time as she watched the man— no, the man-like monster— acknowledge his new prey.

A single muscular arm pulls his blade free from the ground, ceasing the trail making. And before she knew it, the figure was closing in on her, knife scraping behind him as he stalked forward with no apparent rush. His shoulders leaned back as he walked, giving his gait a sinister and predatory appearance.

The faces of the friends she’s lost flashed before her eyes. Is this what they saw in their final moments, is this how it felt to see death coming?

Lucasta’s legs gave out from under her, and she crumbled to her knees, finally giving in to the exhaustion and misery.

“End me. Please, just end everything already.” Although the words tasted bitter in her mouth and her last few syllables rode her vocals in borderline sobs, she sincerely felt the closest thing to peace in a long time. She already knew he couldn’t comprehend her words, but they weren’t meant for him. They were meant for herself, her own acknowledgement that she was letting this happen. Letting go of this forever hell, even if it means she’ll become nothing.

Bowing her head down so she didn’t have to see him coming, she still heard that awful scrap of metal that deepened the anticipation, and the thud of his steps vibrated through the floor. Closer, and closer. So close she could hear the deep echoing breaths ricochet from within his metal helmet. So close she could smell the musk of old blood from his dirty apron.

Hot tears rolled down off her cheeks, hitting the grimy tile beneath.

It’s over now. It’s all over now, and this aching sorrow and loneliness gets to die off with her.

She’ll accept her end willingly.

But, little did she know the surprise cock of his head held more than just curiosity at a random encounter. Pyramid Head hasn’t just not seen her around: he hasn’t _felt_ her around.

The Executioner felt new souls enter his territory a month ago, he felt their guilt and sins radiate through the ether like a beacon, leading him straight to them. Pyramid Head was a creature of atonement, and he sensed sins like humans sensed sound or sight; it was like a pulling lure he got around sinners, and it gnawed into him endlessly until he forced them to expiate. Humans leach their sins into the ether like lead leaches poison into water, and the Executioner does his duty to purify them of their transgressions through corporal reparation. Only then, when the ether feels free of guilt and sin does he cease, but he has come to find nearly every sentient creature coming before him is a child of sin, be them survivor or killer.

Being in the same room as them was nauseating, their transgressions pierced the air and festered inside him, inciting the violence they so morally deserve. In death and torture do they earn absolution, and Pyramid Head can feel the ether around him tolerable once more, and feel his own agitation settle down once its calm.

But, a month ago he had only felt two sinners in the area, and had already dealt their atonement to each one. This creature before him, he couldn’t feel her sin. Was it so weak that he must draw closer to sense it?

By the time he stood right in front of her, she had sunk to her knees and dipped her head mournfully, and he stopped to look down at her in perplexity. The ether felt still, as it always does when it is pure. Like how a human may squint to discern a tiny visual detail, the Executioner focused his attention to the ether around him, finding the air absent of any toxicity. Instead, only with his focus did he note the faintest sliver of sweet, that the space around him where guilt festered had instead only soft virtues to show him. 

There is no sin here to make penance for.

When he brought his great blade up, he watched her tense in anticipation of the hit. However, when the tip of his blade striked deep in the ground beside him— as he often does to station his blade and free both his hands— she let out an involuntary cry; a short, terrified noise that revealed to him she truly thought that blade was meant to be buried into her body instead. Wide, watery eyes darted up at him, and then to his knife, and then back at him once more.

Those big, silver eyes betrayed what the still atmosphere was already suggesting: this woman was without sin. 

Impossible, as far as Pyramid Head was aware. All that is sentient or conscious sins. It is the nature of the mind to hurt, to wrong, to betray— what was this anomaly before him? She _was_ human, right?

Getting a closer look, he crouched before her, his apron falling between his thighs as they spread to bring his weight down. The black of her pupils nearly swallowed her irises; they were wide disks, absolutely petrified, seeing to scale the size of this monster of metal and muscle. Face pallid, a cool sheen was still on her temple, sweating from either nerves or fear or a horrible mix of both. 

She certainly looked human, he thought. Perhaps she was not one of the living? Has death already purged her of sin, but her soul refused to leave its cadaver? That would certainly not be all that unusual in this place, as the laws of reality seem to bend ever-so-slightly.

The sound of crinkled leather drew her attention away from his face— or, at least the pyramid where his face should be— and down to his hand tugging the butcher’s glove from the other by its fingertips. A calloused hand came free, as large and intimidating as the rest of him, and raised towards Lucasta’s face. 

Flinching, she recoiled from the approach and squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the skin of her forehead just barely pressed into by something warm. When it remained for a moment, she managed to swallow down enough anxiety to dare open her eyes, finding the creature was pressing the back of his bare hand to her temple. She didn’t understand. Was he checking her temperature?

With an echoing sigh inside the metal pyramid, the monster dropped his hand off and put his glove back on after he determined she was warm, and thus indeed alive. A living human, a sinless living human. There were no transgressions she was leaching into the ether, no sins he must make her atone for. Instead, she left just the faintest pleasurable note in the ether, of virtue and purity. Something Pyramid Head was almost entirely unfamiliar with, but couldn’t lie that it was a pleasant sensation compared to the bitter vileness of sin.

Distracting him from the enjoyment of his senses, a strangled sound choked out of the girl’s throat. 

“Please. Just get it over with.”

Although he did not understand the words, he could read the way her body hunched and curled into itself on delivery, fingers digging deep in her own arms for stability. She expected deliverance from life, but there was nothing he could condemn from her.

Many lives slaughtered at his hands have taught him some primitive forms of human communication, though. So, once her silver eyes looked bitterly back up into the dull metal of the pyramid, he returned to her a slow shake of his head.

_No. You have nothing for me to take._

Just like her to him, his own sentiment got lost on translation to her. A head shake? A denial? Did he not want her to yield to him, does he only want prey that runs?

She didn’t understand that she was without sin, and without sin he had nothing to punish her for. Instead, she thought worse; she thought she was unworthy prey, unlike her friends, who at least ran and fought for their lives. She felt she was being denied death out of spite, like she didn’t deserve to get out that easy.

The shimmer of tears welled up once more in her eyes. 

“You _slaughtered_ them. Harper is rotting on a hook upstairs, and Theo is split in two in the courtyard.” For each, she made a respective gesture, one towards the stairs up and another to the wide open double doors leading outside. “Just take me. I need this to end.”

Finishing on a tamper, her voice melted into the air, powerless. Exhausted. 

Pyramid Head turned to each direction of her gesture, towards the directions of the bodies he executed weeks ago, one upstairs and the other outside. Still though, yet again, her words didn’t exactly register due to his lack of English; he raised up back to a stand again, concluding this anomaly was much different than the other two survivors he had found here. Instead of tainting the ether around him with bitterness, she left it untarnished and fresh. 

Once more, he returned a shake of his head, before pulling free his blade from the ground, the metal making a shrill sound against the broken tiles.

_You have nothing for me, Innocent One._

He turned, and as casually as he approached, he began to leave. But, his words were not spoken verbally, and certainly not in ways Lucasta understood. So when her plea for an end was seemingly met once more with a denial, she pushed weakly up to her feet, stumbling towards the monstrous man, an arm helping stabilize her frail gait by gripping the rusted iron lockers lining the hallway.

Pyramid Head heard her rise, but disregarded it. It wasn’t until he took a few more steps did he hear a sudden crash of metal, followed by a stifled groan of pain.

Curious as to the commotion, he finally turned back to see the Innocent One on her hands and knees against the tile, the rotted door of an unstable locker right beside her. It crumbled under her weight just as fast as she had, and it appeared her forearm slashed the jagged edge of the broken locker on her fall, leaving a modest pool of dark red blood beneath her. Hissing in between quick and deep pants of pain, she struggled to sit back up, grabbing her gashed arm with the other in a cradle.

Watching her, a bit of interest roused within Pyramid Head, seeing her delicate frame on the floor. Although the sin of lust was lacking from the ether, he felt the familiar carnal pull towards her. It was odd, since only when a sinner’s lust overwhelms the air does it awaken in him as well. Such a strange feeling since it wasn’t another’s lust that was bleeding into his mind. His own, perhaps? That would be something new.

This Innocent One was too interesting to leave here, where she was surely due to perish and rot away with all the other corpses. And that certainly wouldn’t do, it would be an absolute waste of her purity and innocence.

When he re-approached her once more, she was quick to push back the ground under her heels, still clutching her bleeding arm when her back collided with the rotted metal lockers. 

Those terrified silver eyes looked back up to him, as if asking him if this was it. If now she has earned death.

Pyramid Head crouched back down beside her, this time allowing himself to note her soft-looking skin and short black hair falling astray in her face. Delicate, delicious features. But in her eyes she was begging him, through both fresh pain and old, for death. 

If he had a mouth, he would have given her a smile; a sinister one, a knowing one.

Slowly, he gave a final shake of his head, denying her for the last time as he suddenly grabbed and hoisted her over his shoulder, hearing her gasp in both pain and surprise. 

_I can’t just let you go now, Innocent One. You’re too special to lose._

With that, he turned to walk away once more, one hand dragging his metal blade behind him and the other holding her tight over his shoulder. It didn’t take long before her struggling efforts died off, in exhaustion and sorrow, giving in to whatever this monster had in store for her.

The very best she could hope for is that it would at least be better than death.


	2. Blood in the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyramid Head gives into his feeling of lust, and tries to express it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okayy so this chapter _does_ establish Pyramid Head as a sexual predator/rapist so major warning for that department, but come on his introduction in the Silent Hill series was him literally sexually assaulting another monster so what did you expect. And although this chapter is (spoiler alert) just smut, I will preface it by clarifying I do NOT condone Pyramid Head's history or action, and that sexual assault is a terrible thing, and he is a terrible creature, and so on.
> 
> Now that that's out of the way, time for the fun part...

It was a dreary awakening, of murk and disorientation. The fabric covering her cold body felt stiff, and when she shifted her arm she felt the fresh gash awaken in pain, rousing her further into consciousness.

The classroom she was in was freezing, but she was left under a blanket to combat the cold. Or, what she assumes was meant to be one; it looked like a torn piece of fabric from something else, like a canvas covering. Everything was so groggy; when she sat up she felt stars race across her vision, threatening to take her right back down with how weak her head felt.

Slowly, the memories came back to her once she remembered where she was. Lucasta remembered passing out from pain and exhaustion while being carried by the pyramid monster that lurks in this building. At that realization, she was shocked she wasn’t dead or hanging on a hook, and looked around the classroom for answers. Did someone save her from Pyramid Head?

The room door was ripped off ages ago, and she could see clearly into the hallway it led to. Toppled desks laid astrew everywhere, but they seemed to have been pushed away from a small semi-circle on the floor where she had awoken, tucked up against the wall. Someone has obviously cleared the space out for her.

Outside, the clock filled the air with its bongs, and Lucasta counted each one. Seven o’clock. Last she remembered it was three, has she really been asleep that long? She almost never gets more than an hour or two at a time, not with the constant fear and paranoia of that monster catching her.

Suddenly, the moisture of her throat seemed to dry up, and she sat up straight when she heard a familiar sound.

Echoing down the hallway was the horrible scrap of metal, growing in volume. 

Instinctively, she tried to push herself up by both hands, only for her gashed arm to scream in protest and send her crumbling back down to the floor, this time clutching her forearm feebly in defeat. The commotion must have been noticeable, because the scrapping grew quicker, until it was accompanied by a dark figure turning into the room’s doorway.

Seeing the girl curled up on the canvas blanket holding onto herself like a wounded animal earned a curious cock of Pyramid Head’s helmet, before he pierced his blade down into the ground to station it. The sound rattled the room, and the flinch she gave at the noise was animated enough that he took note he should do it less aggressively next time.

Leaving his blade, he then approached her slowly, stalking forward as if he was observing a skittish deer about to take off.

The Innocent One was injured, her arm appeared to have not healed yet. Although Pyramid Head was an expert in dealing injuries, the whole process of how humans exactly healed from them was a bit ambiguous. He knows they take time, but not how much. It knows it is painful, but not how bad. He knows it must be treated, but not how.

Despite his bulky frame and the encumbrance of his metal helmet, he sat down on the floor beside her, and reached for her damaged limb. Wildly, her head shaked, and she clutched it away protectively.

“N-no, don’t touch me!” 

Of course, like always, the words were absolutely meaningless to Pyramid Head, who had no grasp of the English lexicon. What little he did understand, though, was the head shake: a no, a denial. Did the Innocent One not want him to examine her wounds? 

With a glance down, he looked at his hands, bounded by the leather of his butcher’s gloves. Perhaps, he did not know how to be gentle. He did not mean to hurt the Innocent One. Perhaps she doesn’t understand that yet.

Trying again, this time he offered his hand out: an invitation this time, not an intrusion.

_Let me take a look at you._

Lucasta looked down at his hand, dumbfounded. The words behind his actions weren’t very clear, and she couldn’t quite read him what with his lack of facial expressions. Yet, by the grace of her still being alive, she decided to wager on the idea he wasn’t trying to hurt her-- at least not in the moment, it seems. Cautiously, she released her injured arm, and offered it over shakily to his outstretched hand, feeling her nerves alight as if ready to recoil at a moment’s notice.

The second her arm rested in his palm, warmth blessed her starved skin, and she made a little noise of surprise at how nice it felt. She hoped the monster didn’t notice, she didn’t want to gift him the knowledge that his touch felt in any way good on her skin. But she could tell from his hesitation that he did notice, and with that notice came a glance to the surface of her exposed skin, reading the waves of goosebumps and shivers for the reasoning of her little noise.

The little Innocent One was both hurt and cold, Pyramid Head correctly determined. Humans had such needy, fragile bodies. As he set her arm down gently in his lap to reach for the canvas blanket, he wondered as to what other human necessities he was forgetting about. He has remembered warmth, but apparently his makeshift blanket wasn’t helping her. Tearing free a strip of canvas, a few old bells rung in his head: food and water. Their delicate bodies required quite a bit of upkeep to keep alive, no wonder she was already on death’s door when he stumbled upon her. With as much precise control he could muster, he cautiously wrapped around the gash on her arm, control keeping his hefty hands from exerting any possible extra force that could further hurt the Innocent One. 

Looking down at her wrapped forearm, Lucasta was appalled. Did this monster just try to treat her wounds? It didn’t make any sense. Pyramid Head was a vicious executioner, not a nurse; this was entirely unpreceded. Was he trying to help her?

“Th… Thank you?” With her words, she gave a short nod with them, knowing the words by themselves wouldn’t have much meaning to him. However, at her nod there seemed to be some recognition through him, as he returned his own curt nod in agreement. 

Shivering again, she tugged on the canvas sheet, wrapping it greedily around her shoulders.

Taking note of her hudled position, he could tell the cold was still gnawing away at her, since the whole building was a vector for constant drafts of frigid night air. If a room didn’t have a running generator, it was just as cold and biting as it was outside; sadly for her, the room he had elected to bring her to did not have one. If he was being honest, Pyramid Head _did_ legitimately forget humans have to stay pretty warm to survive, not realizing the blanket he left her was ill-suited for the job; an expert he was in ending lives, but not so much in maintaining them. Humans and their fragile needy bodies always amused him.

Remembering the noise she made when she had touched his hand, a new idea came to him. 

Adjusting his sitting position so that he could lean his back against the wall beside her, he made a beckoning motion with his hand, before patting his thigh as an invitation.

_Come. You are not producing enough heat._

The gesture was obvious, and he knew it was unmistakable what he meant, even despite their communication boundaries. He wondered what else was noticeable through them; could she tell the way he looked at her hungrily, can she read the subtle lust curling inside him when he walked into the room? Pyramid Head knew humans couldn’t feel vices and sins in the ether like he could, but he knew they must communicate their lust somehow. On the other hand, a violent creature like Pyramid Head never had to search for such communications before, as the lust of a sinner fermented so deep in his bones that it compelled him to be sexually forceful with those misfortunate enough to be around him when he was like that, without so much care as to the consent or comfort of the other party. 

Yet it also served as another form of punishment, a torture for their sins, if not a demented one. He knew he severely hurt the sinful creatures and humans he had forced himself on, he had seen them cry and bleed and struggle to walk afterwards-- that is, if he didn’t kill them during or after the act. Pyramid Head knew perfectly well, but simply didn’t care, since it satisfied the lust tainting the ether around him while also serving as atonement to the sinner he has selected to abuse.

But the Innocent One deserved no pain or torment, he couldn’t condemn her to undeserved torture. So, although the lust inside him pulled at him, luring him in towards her, he exerted a conscious effort not to be forceful with it, and merely hoped she would just accept his invitation so he could feel that delicate skin pressed up against him. That was a proper trade off, wasn’t it? The Innocent One got to remain warm, and he got to feel her enticing small body against his. There was probably a way to invoke a sexual encounter non-aggressively, but Pyramid Head wasn’t quite sure how to, or if it was even important to. If not for all the pain he has seen his forced sexual encounters cause recipients before, he would have probably initiated it as he usually does. But the Innocent One’s sinless nature made it difficult, since she deserved no torment from him, sexual or otherwise. Surely, there must be another way so he could still get what he wanted from her.

Frantically, Lucasta gave him a quick shake of her head, in no way willing to come to him. The fabric of his apron was encrusted with old blood and smeared with dirt and grim, and the haunting deep breaths from beneath his helmet sent a chill down her spine. Although she wasn’t sure why he spared her, she can not forget he was the monster that slaughtered her only friends in this hellscape.

The sound of his breathing within the pyramid seemed to hitch, surprised. Pyramid Head knew the shake of her head meant a no, but he wasn’t used to being denied. Correction; he wasn’t used to ever asking another creature for anything to begin with, and thus seldom found himself in the position to be denied. But the sting of a rejection, of a no, it certainly didn’t feel good. And the monster that he was had no idea what to do in response but simply ignore it, leaning in suddenly to grab her up with both hands and pulling her down into his lap, muscular arms wrapping around her small frame to keep her back pressed into the front of his torso.

Careless to her fresh injuries during the grab, she made a cry of pain, struggling in his arms weakly as she sobbed in fear and confusion. The musky smell of old blood and decay overwhelmed her senses, and pulled into an embrace right beneath the beak of the pyramid only made the sound of his haunting breaths louder and even more disarming.

But despite all it, she couldn’t lie that he was warm. The idea only made her sob even harder, even if she began struggling a bit less; he was warm, and she hasn’t had human touch in so long that it somehow felt _good_ to be pressed against him like this. It felt warm and so close to a human body that she eventually stopped struggling altogether, finding herself curling into his lap as she heaved and cried in absolute misery to need his warmth this much. So much that she would allow such a monster to hold her, to even touch her skin. 

Theo, Harper, and her would all cuddle together sometimes. Sometimes for warmth, but more times for the intimacy of human contact, a forgotten need that often went starved in a world like this. Harper was around her age, and sometimes when Theo was out late on a patrol the two girls would kiss, entangling their bodies together and share themselves for more reasons than just warmth and human contact. It was seldom but it was a part of her needs; there were times she extended the invitation to Theo, but he would always politely decline. Not that it mattered, since it had no ill-bearings on their friendships.

So why was it that, forced into an embrace with the Executioner like this, did she find herself thinking of those fond moments of human comfort? She hated her body for feeling this good, for mistaking the touch of a monster for the touch of a human. She hated that she needed warmth, that she even had a need at all that Pyramid Head was in a position to fill. Every piece of skin pressed into the front of his apron was alight, with warmth and sensitivity and need. God, she hated herself so much for thinking that. That she _needed_ this. 

Betraying her, a deep yearn curled in her stomach, feeling a different kind of need awaken. Inside her own head, she screamed at it in disgust, berating herself mentally for even acknowledging it. This wasn’t Harper, Lucasta desperately reminded herself. There was no way this arousal was in any way meant for _him_.

With those horrible thoughts swimming around her head, she found herself weakly struggling once more, warmth be damned. Although her squirming was easily overpowered, she heard a shuddering groan echo softly in the metal pyramid above her, almost not realizing all this shifting and squirmy was taking place right in his lap. Initially dumbfounded by the noise, Lucasta vainly continued to try and escape, only stopping when she felt a hard budge form beneath her as she shifted around. 

God, no. This was _not_ happening.

Pyramid Head was aroused. And at the cease of her squirming, he seemed dissatisfied at the lack of stimulation, and parted open his thighs slightly to allow further contact. But Lucasta wasn’t having it, she did not want to think of what this monster wanted with her. Or, if her body was to be believed, what she wanted with him.

Yet the door was already opened, and it appeared Pyramid Head had no intentions on closing it; rather, it only made him that much more overt with his sexual interest, peeling off his gloves so he could eagerly run his calloused hands up and down the front of her blouse, noting the way her breath shuddered from his touch. 

Those large, warm hands felt so good. Good in ways that Lucasta couldn’t describe. Good in ways she felt guilty for. The touch just felt so human that she wanted to melt into it, to let it take her. 

_There we go. Just relax, Innocent One. This isn’t meant to hurt you._

When a single, wandering hand slipped between her thighs, she was embarrassed to admit she didn’t fight it. The budge beneath her only grew firmer, straining against the trousers under his apron. And with that, her own need curled deep in her stomach, yearning for something she knew was wrong. 

Although her tattered jeans served as a buffer, the way his large hand cupped and rubbed between her thighs sent electricity racing up and down her spine. Arching with the sensation, she parted open her own legs just slightly, passively yielding to his advances in the smallest way possible. It felt too good to ignore. It felt too good to deny.

Perhaps, he really had just been waiting for a sign she would yield, because the pace changed dramatically as soon as she showed even a sliver of reciprocation. Eagerly, he scooped her up out of his lap, before slamming her back-first into the floor and climbing atop her. Half in startle and half in pain from his unintentionally rough handling, Lucasta breathlessly gasped, before feeling him grab and pin both her wrists above her head. His silhouette was bulky and massive, and he had to hold himself up enough to accommodate the encumberment of his pyramid, yet it was still suddenly way too close and way too frightening-- weakly, she tugged at her wrists, tears starting to well up in response to how aggressive he was taking this. 

“W-wait, wait please I didn’t mean it--”

At her reluctance, he finally halted, tilting his head down at her as to try and read her better. Then, suddenly remembering what little communication he did understand, she gave a fervent and animate shake of her head. She wasn’t quite sure she truly wanted it to stop-- not with this yearning curl in her gut that still begged to be satisfied-- but she certainly didn’t want to be taken violently, and a monster like Pyramid Head probably didn’t know many other ways but the violent ones.

_Denying me? Why are you fighting this?_

The shake of her head took him off guard. The Innocent One spreaded herself for him, was that not invitation? He knew he couldn’t take her unwillingly; he has done so with others in the past, and knew the human body easily tears and bleeds when one intrudes into it against their will. And this certainly wasn’t meant to hurt the Innocent One, this was merely meant to satisfy the carnal desire within his body-- he knew she felt it too, he could sense her lust entangled in the ether around him. But it was not lust of sin, of adultery, or of violence; thus, it was not a punishable expression of lust, but still regardless a sensation of desire that saturated the air around him, and only fueled his own to grow stronger.

Pyramid Head could feel her need for him, even through all the guilt it came enveloped in. He will help relieve the lust in this little Innocent One, he knew he could if she just let him. And then they could both be satisfied, and the ether could be clear again.

Looking up at the two slender wrists he had pinned, and then back down at her soft features frozen in terror, it dawned on him he was scaring her. This was how he was used to copulation, but he knew his version was normally painfully and violent; even if he tried his best to take the violence and pain out, the act still followed the same outline, even if the motions aren't identical.

Perhaps he should copulate like how humans do, instead. Maybe that would seem less terrifying.

Slowly, he released his grasp on her wrists, noticing the ring of red around them-- an early bruise will surely follow, since he had not realized how hard he was gripping in the heat of his lust.

Gentle, he thought. Like how the humans do it. He knew humans enjoy pressing their lips together as an expression of intimacy, but he didn’t have such ability with the Innocent One. A curious feeling stung inside him at that, of desire to be able to have the body parts to fulfill that human custom. Jealousy, maybe. The longer he thought about it, the more he stared into her lips, wanting to just be able to mimic the motions for her.

Much more softer in his approach, a single hand raised to her face, gently pressing the fingertip of his index finger against her lips. Wide, watery eyes blinked up at him, still lost in a sea of fear and confusion. Then, ever so slowly, he began tracing his fingertip along the soft flesh of her lips, holding his breath as he did so to imagine he was pressing lips against hers.

Swallowing dryly, Lucasta wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. Thank all that is good he at least stopped his advances when she panicked; however, instead of releasing her, he only dropped his hold of her wrists and began tracing over her lips slowly. It wasn’t as if his arousal changed— since he was still atop her, she could feel his budge still pressed in hard against her stomach, unwavering. The only thing that changed seemed to be his approach.

It took a moment before she realized what he was doing.

A _kiss—_ is that what this was supposed to be? He was trying to be gentle, and switched his approach to show he didn’t mean to scare. Although there was still the seed of fear in her stomach, she sucked in a shuddering exhale, deciding she will concede. If it meant this could be something gentle, then she will take it.

Softly, she pursed her lips up, and closed her eyes. When she did so, she could hear his breathing hitch, as if enthralled she was entertaining his simulated kisses. The press of his finger grew in presence, as if it were a harder kiss. Complying, her mouth gently parted and closed, like she would if she were making out with another, and came to find that with her eyes closed it seemed quite real.

Soon enough it was no longer just a pretend kiss to entertain his attempts at intimacy. She began actually kissing as if it were real, sucking slightly and feeling his finger occasionally dip into her mouth to tease. It wasn’t just her mind that was tricked, either; she felt the curl of warmth between her legs return, her body also forgetting it was a monster above her instead of a human, and giving into the passionate feigned kisses with more enthusiasm than she would’ve cared to admit.

It wasn’t supposed to feel good. What was she doing? Why was she entertaining this?

When she felt his knee push between her legs, requesting her thighs to part for him, she found she did so willingly. Was she so starved of a human touch that this was honestly enough for her? To have a murderous monster play surrogate for the friends he had slaughtered himself?

His free hand wandered to her jeans, blunt fingertips digging under the hem and tugging softly. A wave of shivers rippled over her skin, but she was not proud to admit it wasn’t of disgust this time. She wanted him to continue. She wanted to feel his touch down there, despite how glaringly wrong it was to want it.

_Better? You like me like this now, Innocent One?_

Fumbling with the button on her jeans, he pushed down on them and withdrew himself from their pseudo-kisses, using both hands to shimmy her jeans and panties off. Opening her eyes down at him, she saw glints of her own reflection in the dull metal of his pyramid, and bit her lip in shame for the desire she could see in her own eyes. When he climbed back to get her clothing off from her ankles, she swallowed her pride and gave in, sitting up to pull off her blouse over her head and unlatch her bra. 

This was something she accepted. She was going to have sex with this monstrous man, she was going to give in. 

He seemed to enjoy her compliance, which was a good sign he wasn’t a complete sadist. When she helped undress herself before him, his throat made an approving purr that reverberated inside his metal helmet, signaling to her that he indeed wanted her to like this.

Was that consent, despite the lack of a shared language between them to express it? It was so hard to tell.

Either way, he seemed to want to join her, as he reached around himself to undo his dirty apron. And watching him above her, tracing her eyes along the hard muscular lines of his figure, Lucasta couldn’t lie it was attractive. When the apron came off and he stood to remove the trousers beneath, she found herself hanging on a held breath, a bit too eager to see what was beneath.

Holding true to the rest of him, his cock was just as intimating, being a large, uncut, girthy thing. The heat it sent between her legs was too strong for her to even acknowledge the shame in it at this point. Her gaze ran up and down the length of it, admiring the weight and veiny texture, imagining how filling it would be to go inside her.

Not right away though, hopefully. That thing could easily injury someone if he slammed it inside indiscriminately— at the thought, the all-too-familiar presence of fear washed up again; he _did_ understand the concept of foreplay, right?

When he settled back over her body, the tip of his member pressed hungrily into the skin of her belly, while his hand came back down between her thighs. 

_Thank god_ , she thought. So he _did_ understand how to prepare someone.

Two blunt and large fingers traced up the length of her slit, causing her to moan and arch. An approving groan echoed within his helmet as well; the Innocent One was drenched, signaling to him her arousal in a way that was unmistakable, even given their language barrier. Teasing her, he pressed softly atop the folds over her clit, before making gentle circles to stimulate it.

The cry of pleasure she tried her best to stifle was confirmation he was doing it right. Pyramid Head knew that there was a delicious bundle of nerves there on a female’s body, even though in the past he never paid it much attention when assaulting people. But this wasn’t meant to be an assault, and he wanted his sweet Innocent One to yearn for him carnally, in a way that was genuine. Each delicious cry he earned from her saturated the ether around him, kindling his own excitement, and leaving just the faintest traces of sweet purity entangled with the essence of her lust.

Sinless lust. What a rare expression, but such a lovely one. Too often is sinful lust tainting the ether, lust of adulterers or pedophiles or abusers. The expression of lust itself wasn’t a sin, but it so often got entangled with it, to the point where Pyramid Head was accustomed to feeling it with moral depravity intertwined. But the Innocent One, her lust was so sweet, and pure. It only encouraged him to earn more cries from her, to earn more of that divine sensual energy she radiated.

His index’s fingertip, once thoroughly drenched with her wetness, began trailing along the circumference of her entrance, enjoying the way her thighs twitched in anticipation.

_You want me inside you, don’t you?_

If only his words were spoken, conveyed in a message she could understand. Pyramid Head craved to hear what her response would be, how she would react.

But, the second best thing was seeing her reaction.

With that, he softly pressed up against her entrance with his index finger, careful to go gentle and using every bit of willpower he could muster to be slow. Even his hands compared to her were massive, and a single finger must be comparable to the member of a human male for her.

“P-please, please I _need_ it…” she begged with words he didn’t understand, but the tone of her fragile shaky voice was more meaningful than any words she could provide. At that, he finally pushed his full digit inside, enjoying how her warm walls clung to him gratefully.

Was this what it was like to penetrate someone consensually? Pyramid Head must admit he enjoyed it. It sure was better than the mess of blood and the fuss of his victims that he was used to, but they must be dealt their sins somehow. 

Steady, he began rocking his hand back and forth, giving her shallow thrusts to grow accustomed to the stretch. After all, she will have to warm up enough to accommodate much more— Pyramid Head’s member was thicker than both his two fingers, and she was just settling in with one right now.

After a steady tempo of thrusts, her vocal cords got lost in a sea of whines again. A slender hand reached down to hold the one he had penetrating her, tugging at it as if she was trying to ask for something.

_You want another one? So eager for me already._

Complying, he withdrew his index, with his middle finger joining aside. Once again, he pushed in, this time with two fingers— way slower this time, with a cautious watch on her expression to make sure it didn’t hurt the Innocent One. Even though her eyes were squeezed shut, her expression was in absolute bliss, unadulterated and lewd in a way that made his cock throb achingly for her. 

_Patience_ , he tried to remind himself. He didn’t want to hurt the Innocent One. Her body needed this crucial time to get ready for him.

Yet to Lucasta, all she could think about was the delicious fill. It stretched her comfortably with the generous amount of slick she provided, and the tempo Pyramid Head resumed was surprisingly gentle, as if considerate to the limits of the human body. Silver eyes barely parted open to look down at the monstrous man of metal and muscle, admiring the way his bicep bulged as his hand pumped back and forth. The breaths echoing from inside his helmet was low and throaty, exposing his own needs. Taking her eyes down to his cock to confirm, she saw a generous dribble of precum leaking from it, and couldn’t think of anything else but how good it would feel to have it inside.

Once again, her hand came up to his, tugging at it incessantly. The dull metal pyramid above her tilted, trying to understand her request, before seeing the flood of need in her eyes.

She was ready.

With that, Pyramid Head made no hesitation withdrawing his fingers, eagerly climbing up higher to replace the presence with the head of his cock. It felt blunt and hard, and Lucasta found her legs opening up wider, begging him to continue.

But he didn’t enter, not yet. It appeared like the metal pyramid was looking right at her, waiting for something. Lucasta didn’t know how or why she knew what to do, but she began nodding her head yes, feeling like that was the greenlight he was asking for.

Suddenly, the full length of his member plunged into her, stretching well past the path his fingers had created. It was intense, almost reaching-- if not already at-- the limits her body was meant to accommodate, but she did nothing more but cry out in pleasure to convey in the only way she could that it felt amazing.

And that’s when the monstrous side of him really came out.

A broad hand came down to hold onto her hip bone, and using it as a grip he began to pound into her ferociously. Once unleashed, he had no hesitation, no mercy. Just a deep powerful lust that he needed to release.

It didn’t matter he was gripping hard enough to leave bruises, Lucasta only held over his wrist as a desperate request to keep it there, loving the way he pulled her down onto his cock. Even with as much preparation as she had, she could feel every firm vein along his shaft, blessing her with a ripple of pleasure on each hard thrust. Every time he buried himself in to the hilt, a soft noise escaped her throat, begging him in everything but words to continue.

She needed this. As shameful as it was to acknowledge, she needed this so badly. He filled her so good, so deep— and fucked her so hard she wasn’t even certain if she would be walking properly after this.

But it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was this feeling, right now. 

Her walls clenched deliciously around him, and Pyramid Head noticed her body tense, on the rise. It only made him that much more aggressive, pulling his member all the way out on his thrusts so he could plunge it all the way back in. At this point he must have been hitting that sweet spot inside her, because her vocals were now lost in a sea of moans and whimpers. 

And, before he knew it, she gasped on her cries, and he felt her clench down hard around him. Never in a million years did she think a monster like him would make her climax, and especially not this hard. 

With the almighty grip around his cock while she came, Pyramid Head felt his own body peak. On one final hard thrust, he buried himself deep into her body, a shuddering groan reverberating inside the metal of his helmet as he released.

Basking in the warm afterglow, he withdrew himself, noting the dribble of white cum leaking freely from her entrance. It was further reassurance to him that he did well, that he didn’t cause her pain— he knew bleeding was a telltale sign of a painful encounter, and it tended to tinge his cum a pinkish hue when it leaked out.

Panting deeply in her own haze, Lucasta swallowed down as much of her pride as possible, just trying to enjoy the moment for what it was— a damn good fuck. When Pyramid Head sat up to lean back against the wall— probably the closest he could do to relax on account of the metal pyramid— she found herself sitting up, wanting to join him and lay against his warm body, but finding her familiar reservations taking hold. It wasn’t until he lifted his arm up and beckoned with the other did she give in, inching forward, caving into the warm nook between his body and his arm and she cuddled against him.

His skin had a sheen and smelled faintly of sweat and ash. And, ever so slightly, she caught the scent of fog from him, of misty mornings or cloudy days. It was a comforting smell compared to the constant miasma of death in this horrible place, or the musk of gore and old blood from his clothing. So maybe, combined with that in addition to his abundant heat, it wasn’t too hard to close her eyes and pretend it wasn’t a monster who she was falling asleep in the arms of.

When he noticed she was dozing off, he brought a hand up to stroke her head, being careful as to not wake her.

_The ether feels clear and fresh now. If only you could feel it, feel how much we cleansed it together._

He cocked his head down at her, noting how peaceful her features appeared as she slept. Much more serene compared to when she had passed out from fright and exhaustion earlier.

_What an interesting creature you are, Innocent One._

And although he had no need for sleep, he found himself staying seated there for hours, just allowing her to lay against him.

It was the closest thing to calm that Pyramid Head has had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried my best to portray them both as accurate as I can, please let me know what you think, I always love reading the comments <3
> 
> It was really hard to make this consensual on account of Pyramid Head's history, since he wouldn't have much stake in the game whether or not he got consent, but I tried my best to make his behavior seem believable. Hopefully you all enjoyed it, don't worry there will be more content to come with these two c;


	3. Like a Lamb to the Slaughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucasta has dreams about the start of this trial, and she later finds out what Pyramid Head's Torment does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclaimer: this chapter REALLY pushes the envelope on that "abusive relationship" tag. This is in no ways a healthy happy relationship, but hey that's what makes it fun baybe!
> 
> Also, this chapter expands a bit on what I think Pyramid Head's ability, Torment, does. Always pictured it as a psychological torture type of deal.
> 
> Also also, I don't do italic flashbacks, so flashbacks are indicated by this grey. Hope you guys enjoy!

It was the deepest sleep she has had in a long time. Comfort, warmth, security-- it held her body in a false stasis, in a slumber that was not meant to be trusted this strongly. It was a monster she was in the arms of, it was a purgatory she was trapped within. Any friends she had have been slaughtered by the creature she so willingly allowed into her body, like a substitute to the friends he had stolen from her.

It wasn’t meant to be comforting. It wasn’t meant to feel good. Even as the clock rang outside in the courtyard, counting for Pyramid Head the fifth hour she’s been asleep in his arms, she still did not stir.

Her dreams, the deepest they have been in a long time, slowly began to stir up her old memories to the top. They burst like bubbles at the surface, replaying to her the start of the end. 

That being, the start of this trial-- when the Entity decided to abandon them.

The corn fields felt so thick as she raced through them, the stalks pelting her face as she sprinted for her life. Behind her, she heard the throaty gurgle of the Wraith, closing in ever-so-slightly more than before. 

Suddenly, she heard a loud crack in the air-- she heard the hit before she felt it. 

The debilitating blow split a gash across her side, and she cried out in pain, moving a single hand to hold over her injury. But she didn’t stop running, she couldn’t. Instead, the adrenaline from the hit, the shock from the pain, it only made her feet push back on the dirt ground faster. 

She didn’t know when she lost him. At a certain point, she stopped hearing his throaty gurgles echoing behind her, and burst out from the other side of the cornfield, fresh red blood dripping freely from between her fingers as she held over her side, her lilac blouse saturated on its flank with dripping crimson. 

Where were the others? She knew there was a man among them injured as well, she wondered if the Wraith left her to seek him out. His senses were like a bloodhound, somehow always narrowing in on the most vulnerable of the group to target. 

Shambling pitifully to the barn-- the only structure in sight-- she tried her best to bite down on her tongue, stifling her own whimpers of pain lest that monster hears her. When the metallic taste of blood bloomed in her mouth, she didn’t stop biting. Not until she made it into the far corner of the barn, collapsing opposite to a generator being worked on by a girl around her age. Seeing her, the girl’s big brown eyes widened in both shock and sympathy, picking up the red carry case beside her and rushing over to Lucasta. 

“Oh god, are you alright? I didn’t see anyone else at the start of this trial,” her voice was as breathless as Lucasta’s, and she knelt down beside the injured girl, popping open the red case she brought. At this point, it became obvious it was a medkit-- a healer she was, thank god. 

“I only saw one other person, a man with blond hair-- he’s hurt too, we were working on a generator together across the cornfields when that monster found us.” An image of the man’s light blond hair dyed red with his blood flashed in her head. A gash split along his forehead, into his hairline, drizzling blood over his pale gastly face. As he crawled into a utility cabinet to hide, Lucasta darted the other way, drawing attention away from where he was hiding to prevent the Wraith from catching him. Never before has she heard her heart beat so strong, so loud in her ears that it nearly deafened her, and she took off into the fields of corn to flee. 

When a torrent of sanitizing rubbing alcohol pelted her gash, Lucasta wailed at the stinging pain, only for the girl treating her wounds to quickly shove a wad of gauze into her mouth to muffle her. 

“Please, I know it hurts, but you have to be quiet-- he’ll hear us.” The words were on a tremble of her own, hand shaky as she twisted the cap back onto the rubbing alcohol and began to press some padding over the wound. It was obvious her heart ached for Lucasta’s pain, but it was a necessity that her wound be treated so that she stopped leaving a trail of traceable blood behind her. 

When the gauze was wrapped snug around her middle, she sighed in absolute exhaustion, face pallid and drenched with a layer of sweat from the ordeal. The brown-eyed girl tugged her ruined shirt back down over her stomach, closing her kit as she stood up. 

“When you get your bearings, come hop on this generator with me. But take all the time you need.” She concluded in a hushed voice, so nervous about the Wraith hearing her. Returning back to her generator and sparking the leads of two live wires together, Lucasta watched her in a haze, mind too lightheaded from blood loss and pain to dare try standing up just yet. 

“Th-thank you--” stuttering out the gratitude she forgot, she hadn’t realized how dry her mouth had become, like the adrenaline had sapped all the moisture. “What is your name?” 

Eyebrows knit together sympathetically, the girl turned her head slightly in Lucatsa’s direction, despite not taking her eyes off of the wires in hand. 

“Harper. My name is Harper.” 

Through the pain and haze, Lucasta returned to her a wearily smile, struggling to her feet so she could join her in repairing the generator. 

“Nice to meet you, Harper. I’m Lucasta.” 

The silhouette before her working on the generator flickered, like the image of the girl was weak and faint. A horrible pit curled up in Lucasta’s stomach, taking a hesitant step back from the generator. The barn suddenly got darker, and the pulse of a dying fluorescent light highlighted the shape before her. 

The girl was no longer crouched by the generator. She was standing, eerily still and tall, her outline still being the only discernible thing Lucasta could make out in the dark. 

“Ha… Harper?” 

All the lights in the room suddenly turned on, revealing the hallway of Midwich Elementary, and Harper’s pale lifeless body slumped over on a meat hook. Those once beautiful big brown eyes were now pale and vapid, still open blankly, and the crackle of dried old blood trailed down from the corners of her mouth. Those eyes no longer looked at her, they looked down emptily into the tiled floor, forever staring at the red stains of blood she left before Pyramid Head pierced a meat hook through her chest. 

Screaming, in both terror and guilt, she felt herself jump. 

And then suddenly, she was awake, startled into consciousness panting with fear, the precipitation of sweat evident on her brow as she leaned over and away from the body she was laying against.

Pyramid Head shifted to sit up as well, tilting his head in surprise to the energetic awakening, watching the Innocent One shiver even though he knew she was no longer cold.

“S-She didn’t deserve to die-- oh god, Harper, it shouldn’t have been you. God, why did it have to be y-you…?” Head shaking, wishing nothing more but to have been the body decomposing on the hook upstairs instead of her friend, she pressed her palms into her eyes harshly, digging her nails into her forehead hard as if a punishment for being the one alive. “Why me? Why didn’t you just kill me too?”

Hopelessly lost on what any of her words meant, Pyramid Head offered a confused hand atop her shoulder as a means of consolation, only to have it violently shrugged off.

This time, she turned the front of her body towards him, addressing the monster responsible for her friends’ deaths directly, in a voice borderlining a scream.

“You’re fucking _sick_! Did you just keep me alive so you could have a toy to fuck? You’re a monster, you’re a cold heartless monster!” The way she screamed at him, her silver eyes gripped with a mixture of anguish, anger, and accusation, was enough for Pyramid Head to realize her upset was directed at him. Both her hands came up, pushing hard against his body harshly as if to distance herself, and the monster felt a burning rage bubble up inside him. When she stumbled up to her feet, shaky like a newborn deer as she began to flee, he found his hand clenching hard around her calf, pulled back without mercy. In a blink of an eye, she fell forward into the floor, smacking the front of her torso so hard it felt as if the wind was knocked from her.

Before she could even catch her bearings, the world spinning around her, she felt the monster behind her climb up to straddle her back, hand gripping the back of her neck to keep her face down.

_Don’t get too cocky, Innocent One. You may be sinless, but you’re still at my mercy, and my mercy alone._

He leaned in, the dark breathing beneath his pyramid haunting and sinister, conveying words she couldn’t hear, but felt the sentiment rattle her bones.

_If you don’t want me to be nice, I can be cruel next time. Do you really want to see me when I’m cruel?_

God, the air was absolutely still between the horrible echo of his breathing combined with Lucasta’s bitter sobs, but it was as if she could hear his voice in her head. Like his rage burnt so strong that it disrupted the ether, transcending the boundaries between them, and rang forcefully in her mind until she knew the exact words he had spoken to her.

 _Nice_ , that’s what he was being to her. He could’ve taken her violently last night, he didn’t have to listen to her wants or wishes. The sentiment in the air still overpowering, Pyramid Head inflicted his Torment onto her to illustrate his threat— she felt the images flash in her head of what could have been, she saw his thoughts infesting her mind from the bleeding ether. He was _forcing_ these thoughts into her head, punishing her by showing what would have happened last night if she forced him to be cruel. That’s what he did when he Tormented, he gets into his victims head, he floods them with visceral horrors like he was doing to her now.

She saw herself on the floor, clothing torn to shreds around her small, shivering body. One large hand held her upper arm down forcefully into the floor, and the other was wrapped threatening around her neck. Her face was bloodied and bruised, locks of black hair slickened with blood astray in her broken expression, and her one free hand desperately clawed at the arm strangling her, pleading for release. The monster was between her legs, pushed up flush against her body, ignoring the puddle of blood pooling beneath her thighs as a consequence to his assault. 

When his hips pulled back, she could see his cock slickened with blood-- _her_ blood-- before slamming back mercilessly into her body, so hard there was an audible crack as he shattered the bone of her pelvis.

She felt the burn through her body, the visceral tear from the imagery. The phantom pain tore through her soul, and she screamed out in anguish from the scene as if it were real, her actual real body panting and clawing desperately into the flooring like a wounded animal, begging to be released from these lurid visuals in her head.

Watching her as she struggled, crumbling and coming undone like the fragile thing she was, the cruel anger within Pyramid Head cracked, realizing he was going too far with his Innocent One. What was he even doing? She was not like the sinners he has dealt with, she may have earned his anger, but definitely not his cruelty— and surely, in no way his Torment. This psychological torture was too much for her, he _knew_ it was too much for her, and he instantly regretted his rage blinding him, releasing his harsh grip from the back of her neck and hastedly getting up off of her.

 _Too far,_ he thought to himself. God, why did he have to take it so far?

_I’m sorry, Innocent One. You did not deserve to see that._

Once his rage was calmed and his Torment released, his words no longer transcended the ether, so she couldn’t hear his apology for the psychological torture he had inflicted on her. Once released, she curled up into herself in the fetal position, heaving out bitter sobs to the horrible scenes she could still see so vividly in her head. 

There was a hot ache in his chest, one he couldn’t describe. He yearned to undo this pain on his sweet Innocent One. He yearned to comfort her from his own horrible actions.

Reaching out to her body, she didn’t flinch or fight back when he lifted her into his lap, cradling her protectively. It didn’t still the violent shakes seizing her body, but it did seem to comfort her, as she reached and gripped helplessly around his torso. Comfort was needed so badly she didn’t care who from, even if from the monster who had hurt her in the first place.

When he infested her mind, when he had Tormented her, he felt the guilt she was distraught over— that brown-eyed girl on the meat hook upstairs, the sinner he had forced to atone. If only she could see her as he did, if only his Innocent One could feel the sins that she radiated, rippling across the ether and digging into Pyramid Head’s mind incessantly. 

Despite her kind features, and soft umber curls framing her round face and admirable brown eyes, the Executioner felt the pain of all those she had wronged in her life tear into him. She may have been all sweet and smiles as an adult, but as a youth she was a cruel bully to the other kids, taking out her own feelings of insecurity by mocking and putting down the other girls around her.

Sure, she grew up out of it. With age she matured, and kindness filled the spaces her hatred previously occupied; but the damage was still done, and those souls she had bullied as a youth would forever be haunted by her treatment. Sins like that weren’t the most grave, but the Executioner didn’t judge sins by severity. All sinners must atone before him, each one must face the consequences for their actions.

But his Innocent One, his sweet pure Innocent One, she had never hurt another soul in her life. It only made her anger at him that much more sharp, stinging in knowledge that to earn her anger, he must’ve hurt her greatly. And how did he respond?

By forcing into her mind a scene of him brutally raping her, threatening what a beast like him does to punish sinners. But she was no sinner, and those images were undeserved, and he should have never abused the ether to infect her with his Torment.

His broad arms held her in closer to his bare chest, doing his best to keep her naked body warm and secure in his arms, as she cried out hysterically, mind still trapped in that awful loop. It was like a horrible car crash, when it is seen once it gets burned into the mind permanently. The afterimage leaves a haunting imprint, bitterly everlasting, making the moment feel like it's going to last forever.

_Please stop crying, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to hurt you._

The words had no way of reaching her, and the ache in his chest spread. Oh god, the guilt, it tore through him like a knife through cloth. It left him feeling in tatters, ripped into pieces as he clutched her shaking body, wishing he knew of a way to ground her back to reality.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. Not necessarily a good one, or even one that could work, but still one of the few ways he could communicate himself to her in a way that could be meaningful.

A single hand came up, cupping delicately under her chin. She didn’t even acknowledge it, her eyes squeezed shut so she didn’t have to look at him, crying streaks of lightning down her cheeks. Then suddenly, the tip of his thumb pressed up softly against her lips, tracing gently around the rim.

As if awakened from the horrors within her own head, two big silver eyes blinked up at him, ceasing her sobs as she watched him with his pseudo-kiss. Those eyes were pained, hurt so deeply in a way that can’t be undone, and he released a shuddering breath from within his pyramid to stabilize his composure. 

Keeping the front of his head locked down on her as if to mimic eye contact, his thumb pressed a little harder once her eyes were on him, emphasizing his apology kiss.

_I’m so sorry, my sweet Innocent One._

She could feel the words faintly, the sentiment landed somewhere in her scattered broken mind. The loop stopped playing in her head, and her glassy eyes stayed locked in the glints of her own reflection through the dull metal of the pyramid.

Perhaps it was her nature to forgive, as forgiveness was a virtue most innocent hearts can resonate with. As if someone could wrong her so deeply, wound her so greatly, but still earn forgiveness from one with a heart so kind as hers. 

It must've been her nature. It must’ve been, because for no other reason could he imagine she would purse her lips up into his thumb, softly closing her eyes and completing the kiss.

She accepted his apology. Even as hurt as she was, she took it.

She forgave him, curling further into his hold to show it.

Like a lamb to the slaughter.

What a heavy toll it must be to be sinless like her, to be so willing to forgive after such an ordeal. It cautioned Pyramid Head, imprinting on him, warning that he should never cross that line with his sweet Innocent One again. Her nature deserved not one ounce of cruelty from him, and certainly never his Torment; he must make a conscious effort to refrain himself from his own rage in the future, even if provoked.

And then, as if exhaustion got the best of her, she slipped back under again, passing out from the anguishing mental toll it took on her. Only once her breathing was deep and stable did he slowly lift her up and back onto the floor, carefully wrapping her naked body up in the canvas blanket for whatever possible warmth it could provide. Before she awakens, he should find her something better-- a proper blanket, and perhaps something for her to eat as well. Maybe that would be proper retribution for his crimes against her, and then maybe he would actually deserve the forgiveness she so easily gave him.

Before leaving though, he first checked her wounds and discarded the saturated wrappings-- all the commotion had reopened the gash on her forearm, and he noticed the fresh blossom of purplish bruises around her wrists, neck, and hips from his harsh handling. 

_Oh, my Innocent One. I must learn to be gentle with you._

Dutifully, he rewrapped her injured forearm with fresh bandages torn from the canvas, before returning it to her and tucking in the covering again. Grabbing his clothing, he put back on his trousers and rewrapped his blood-caked apron around himself, tying the back before reaching to rip his great knife out from the flooring. 

Leaving with just the scrap of his metal sword trailing behind him, she was left alone in the room once more, her rattled psyche returning her once more to her memories.

The sleep was even deeper and darker this time, as if hiding her consciousness away.

The horrible bell of the Wraith echoed out somewhere in the distance. At least it wasn’t close, at least it meant he wasn’t watching the two girls as they sprinted through the cornfields, racing over to the other side. They had heard the piercing scream of a survivor, blood-curdling and raw, as he hanged on a meat hook like a slab of venison. 

Burst out from the stalks, Lucasta saw the figure hooked, recognizing the blond-hair man from earlier. The wound through his chest was gushing torrents of blood as he struggled, despite not even battling off the creeping tendrils of the Entity. 

A false sense of relief washed over Lucasta as she reached up, pushing to unhook him. Maybe he hadn’t caught the Entity’s attention yet. They had thought he was on that hook for quite some time-- the two girls had to crouch and hide around the Wraith, noticing him by the telltale shimmer in the air-- but by the time they reached him, Lucasta was so sure he would’ve been dead. 

“Here, come behind this tree, we can patch you up,” Harper beckoned the man over to some covering, and Lucasta held under his arm to help the heavily injured man make it to the tree. 

“I’m so sorry, I thought I drew him away from you earlier,” Lucasta apologized as she set him down, taking the gauze Harper handed to her. 

“Y-you did, you did-- he got me when I was trying to save the other guy.” Voice coarse and delivered in rasps, he coughed violently once finished, spitting up bright crimson blotches of blood over himself. 

Hands shaking, Lucasta smeared off a few slatters that had landed on her face. 

“The other guy? We haven’t seen another guy,” Harper began, pulling out the rubbing alcohol. 

“Yeah, he’s dead. Pulled him straight off the hook and that _thing_ materialized behind me, grabbing him-- he knew to go after the weaker prey. I watched him tear that man to shreds. God in heaven…” 

He couldn’t say much more before Lucasta shoved the roll of gauze in his mouth, big sympathetic eyes apologizing deeply to him as she did so. Suddenly, Harper ripped open his bloodied shirt and poured the disinfectant on the fresh gash cutting through his chest, with Lucasta having to place a firm hand over his mouth to keep the gauze in while he gave a horrid scream of pain. 

“I’m so sorry,” she began, the silver of her eyes mournful for the man’s misery before taking a clean set of gauze and pressing it into the wound. 

“I-I think I’m gonna pass out--” he stuttered as he spit out the gauze, eyes growing fixed and distant, and his face looking pale as snow compared to the dried blood streaked down his forehead from his previous head wound. Harper darted her eyes at Lucasta, silently requesting she keep him awake as she prepared a vial of morphine to give him. 

Lightly, Lucasta gave a small smack on his cheek, trying to rouse him. 

“Hey, stay with us here, it’s gonna be alright--” she didn’t mean to have her voice tremble as she spoke, but it made her heart ache so deeply to see him in pain. “Tell me your name, sir. What is your name?” 

The question barely kept his focus, his eyes struggled to stay open, forcing Lucasta to give him another smack to the cheek. A hollowness churned inside her chest when she did so, knowing that it had to be harder this time if she wanted to keep him conscious. 

“Sir, sir please stay awake. Tell me your name, say anything--” 

Sputtering another violent cough of blood, he shook his head, as if begging to be allowed to sleep. 

“T-Theo, my name is Theo…” 

As he finished his words, Harper buried the syringe of morphine into his arm, pressing the plunger to the hilt. Theo made a dying whine, tapering off as the opioid took effect, and Lucasta dutifully patted away the droplets of cold sweat lining his brow. 

Somewhere in the distance, the Wraith’s bell rang hauntingly. 

It sounded closer this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More about Lucasta's past (and her survivor friends) will come.
> 
> Also let me know if the darkness in this relationship is fine, I sometimes can really overwhelm a story with it, but these two are meant to be a somewhat okay-ish couple. Just definitely not healthy, nor good. If the darkness is too much I can totally scale it back, considering I'm writing for an audience of about 10ish people at the moment lmao
> 
> Til next time! (which considering my motivation for this, properly a few days c; )


	4. Thrilling Tremors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucasta makes a break for it to try and escape. She later runs into Ghostface, who's not going to mercy her like Pyramid Head does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even BIGGER warning for abuse, violence, and noncon for this chapter. I'm throwing another killer in the mix, and he's not playing nice.

It was the sound of that everlasting clock that stirred her awake from her nightmares.

The cold sweat enveloping her naked body only provided an extra chill to the haunting classroom around her. Scrambling to sit up, she sucked in air through her teeth when her damaged arm pressed against the floor, immediately remembering in the most visceral way the extent to which her body was damaged. Reaching for her discarded clothing, she noted the fresh wrappings around her forearm, despite the absence of the Executioner in the room with her. She could only vainly hope it meant he was gone and another survivor had found and patched her up.

But hope like that isn’t nurtured in a place like this. She can plant the seeds of it in her mind, but the ground is far too salted to yield growth. Any hope she has disintegrates inevitably, and the haunting feeling that the Executioner was still holding her hostage settled into her heart deeply, filling the fragile spaces that hope left behind.

Yet, the air was absent of his ominous breathing reverberating in that metal helmet. The room was devoid of all signs of him, but she still nervously walked around to check, carefully stepping around the toppled desks and discarded books in her path. Only at the relief that he seemed to truly be gone did she find herself exhaling a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding, hastily putting on her clothes and shoes at this rare moment to run. 

Turning back once more to glance over the room as she stood in the doorway, she noticed the canvas blanket and remembered his attempts at keeping her warm. His little shakes and nods of his head to try and communicate, the press of his finger against her lips as a surrogate for a kiss. And that night they shared together, where they both gave into darker parts of themselves and satisfied the lust hanging in the air.

But then she remembered how he was the last time she saw him. Being pushed to the floor with an unforgiving hand on her neck, seeing for once the real monster Pyramid Head was.

After that, it wasn’t so hard to step out of the room and leave.

It wasn’t until she exited the classroom did she realize she was on the second floor, looking down the hallway and noticing it wasn’t the one she was used to. Almost all of her time was spent on the first level to avoid Harper’s body, and Lucasta felt her throat dry up when she realized she was going to have to pass it to make it to the stairs.

Why would he take her upstairs? Was he doing this on purpose, banking on the fact she can’t stand to be around the cadaver of her friend?

The seize in her stomach at the idea seemed to agree with her thoughts, remembering how he held her down into the floor and invaded her mind last night. Those images he had forced into her head bubbled to the surface, and she winced when they popped at the top of her awareness, flashing those bloody images of her defiled body.

It only made her desire to flee even stronger, and despite not having food in many days, Lucasta hadn’t felt this energized in weeks. The adrenaline was taking hold, and she made a desperate sprint to the stairs.

The exit gates were downstairs, and she can get out if she makes it there without attracting his attention. She had no clue where he was, but she knew he never left this forsaken building of Silent Hill.

As she turned the corner the hallway took to get to the stairs, she almost froze in her steps when she saw it.

The corpse hanging from the meat hook was blackened with rot. Below it was an ooze of putrified organic remains, as if her internals had liquified and seeped out of her decomposed body. And the smell, that horrible smell-- the constant reak of death and decay was coming from _her_.

For better or for worse, the corpse was decomposed past the point of recognition, with the features of the face almost gone, blacken flesh seeming to hang from the jawline, and swarms of fat maggots teeming in the holes where her cheeks used to be.

Lucasta whimpered as she covered her mouth and nose, holding her breath as best she could, hoping to stave off the miasma of death. Despite being empty, her stomach churned around itself, threatening to retch whatever bile hung around. Immediately, her gaze dropped to the floor in front of her, trying to desperately avoid looking at Harper’s putrefied corpse. It reminded her of how she used to watch horror movies as a kid, she would cover her eyes during the scary parts, only peeking out from her cover when the music had calmed. 

Keeping her eyes locked on the tile below, she continued on her pilgrimage, not daring to look up until the tip of her shoe met with the top step of the staircase.

Despite the vile weight the air still had to it, she finally allowed herself to suck in a breath of relief. A short-lived one, at that.

Down the stairs, she heard it. Distant and faint, but still everlastingly present.

Like the sound of scraping a butter knife on cement. A drawn out screak, where metal meets ceramic, accompanied by the jarring cracks and pops of shattering tiles.

He was downstairs. Where, she didn’t know. All she knew was he was carving those god forsaken trails, like he always does. Perhaps a little part of her felt grateful he was so loud with that great knife, or else she wouldn’t be able to avoid him as easily.

Softly, she pushed off the heels of her shoes, stepping out of them and picking them up. Bare feet would be less noticeable than the subtle clunk of her tennis shoes.

It felt as if she was flying on the balls of her feet with how softly she padded down the stairs, quickly spotting the silhouette of Pyramid Head down the corridor and taking cover around a rusted wall of protruding lockers.

Across the hallway, she watched him stop abruptly. The scrap of his knife ceasing, the air was left feeling empty and vast without its constant din.

Swallowing thickly, she peaked from her measly cover, eyeing the exit gates he stood in front of. Did he know she was here? Did he already know of her plan to escape him, to flee to Lampkin Lane?

Then, as abruptly as he stopped, he turned the other way-- this time in Lucasta’s direction-- and resumed etching his trails back up the hallway.

The color drained clear from her face, and her heart never pounded so hard in her chest before. 

He’s coming. He’s coming her way, he’s going to see her when he passes the lockers.

Not thinking straight and in a borderline unhinged mindset, she felt that familiar feeling of heat rushing to her feet, and suddenly sprinted out from her covering.

If she ran past him just fast enough, maybe she could make it.

Shoes still clutched tightly in hand, she felt her feet hitting the ground so hard she thought it might snap her ankles. No thoughts, just run. Run before he realizes.

Before the exit gates were even close, Pyramid Head seemed to stop in a startle, hesitating for only a split second in confusion. But before she could even dream about making it past him, a single muscular arm pulled up his blade, before stabbing it down into the floor adjacent. Lucasta has seen that before, she knew he was stationing it. He always does that before approaching her.

The feeling in her feet got hotter as she approached, and the ache in her chest felt like it was burning, hope smouldering when she saw him recognize her dash. 

The split second she was within reach, feet flying so fast she hoped to sprint right past him, Pyramid Head suddenly leaned in and scooped her up into his arms.

Shoes dropping abruptly and shrinking in surprise to the grab, Lucasta immediately began trying to squirm out, despite all hope in her heart being dashed away. Cocking his head, he adjusted his cradle around her body as if trying to make her more comfortable— as if she would ever be comfortable in a bridal carry with him to begin with.

_Where do you think you’re going, Innocent One?_

Feeling how firm his grasp was under her back and legs, it felt as if her chest caved in, shuttering out a defeated sob. Limp, body now exhausted of all energy it was carrying, her head willingly fell against his dirty apron, feeling the hard muscle of his pecs beneath.

“You win. I would beg for death again, but I don’t think you’ve learned English since the last time I saw you.”

Supporting her sentiment, he gave a little cock of his head, in recognition that she had spoken but making it painfully obvious he still does not understand her words. With a deep, weary sigh, she slouched further into his hold, feeling all her muscles go numb and loose after her last ditch attempt to flee.

_What were you looking for? You should’ve stayed in the room where it’s safer._

Just like her to him, Pyramid Head’s words didn’t register back either. 

_Oh, you’re still hungry, you must’ve been looking for food. Don’t worry, Innocent One, I have something for you._

Rather than heading for the staircase, he began walking and turned straight into one of the rooms. Once inside, he crouched and set her down on the floor, surprisingly gently. Sighing, deep in exhaustion from her fruitless pilgrimage, Lucasta reluctantly sat up, surprised when she watched Pyramid Head go to grab something across the room. It was only then did she realize there was a smoky smell in the air, causing momentary panic to spike in her chest, thinking there was a fire. That is, only to whip around and see Pyramid Head across the room over what looked to be a controlled cooking fire. Above it was a makeshift grill from what appeared to be rusted chicken wire, and cooking atop it was a skinned bird. Glance at the floor beside it, she saw bloodied black feathers, and realized it must’ve been a crow he caught.

As he picked it up, she gawked at him, dumbfounded at the sentiment of a monster like him cooking a bird. He knew what food was? He knew how to cook and skin birds? So many questions flooded her brain in such a short amount of time, so much so that she barely processed it when he crouched down and offered it to her.

_I meant to prepare it longer, but if you’re this hungry you should eat it now._

Even though she couldn’t hear his words to her, she could see that the bird’s flesh appeared thoroughly cooked, enough to char and burn large sections of it. Which is probably for the better since Lucasta wasn’t looking to get salmonella in a place like this, but still the flavor is bound to suffer.

Swallowing nervously, she nodded slowly at him, to signal her acceptance of the gift. The monster seemed pleased as the bird fell into her hands, and Lucasta was quick to begin picking at it— food source be damned, it really had been awhile since she had last eaten. 

Gradually, she scarfed it down faster and faster, her original pride crumbling at the reminder of just how good it was to eat again. It must’ve been distracting enough that she hardly noticed when Pyramid Head returned to the other side of the room, and flourished a torn blanket at her.

_Food, and a proper blanket. Compensation for the pain I’ve caused you._

Although she still couldn’t hear his words, when he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders she had an inkling of an idea this was supposed to be an apology. The blanket was aged and torn, but compared to the canvas covering upstairs, it was at least a proper blanket. Although there was a sliver of her moldering pride fighting her inside, Lucasta still managed to cede and grace him with another approving nod and a slight smile; an acceptance of this compensation, an acknowledgement to his apology.

Beaming again at her, his breathing made a pleasant-sounding hitch, and nodded back at her again to agree.

By the time she had finished her food, he had sat down on the floor to join her, sitting up against the same wall. Out of sheer politeness to the offering of food and warmth, Lucasta didn’t scoot away even though he sat down incredibly close to her, nor did she fight him when he began to absentmindedly play with her hair. It was so close she could hear those echoing breaths in his helmet, despite them sounding quiet and soft in this moment. So close his warm thigh pressed up against her own leg, and she felt her skin betray her and welcome the warmth. So close she could see her own reflection in his helmet, the dull metal barely catching a shine of her features, and swallowing thickly at the noticeable ring of bruising around her neck that he had left on her yesterday.

Those bulky, calloused fingers toyed surprisingly gentle with her locks of messy hair. It was dirtied from a month of grim and dust, and any person would find it unappealing to even touch. Not him though— he was no person. He was probably just delighted to even touch it at all, finding surprisingly strong fascination with her features. 

Her food had long been finished when he retreated his hand to pull off his butcher’s gloves. At first Lucasta assumed it was to get a more tactile feel of her hair, only to be surprised when his hand eagerly returned to trace the tip of his index over her lips.

A kiss. Perhaps not a real one, but his version of one regardless. After a deep exhale, she found herself yielding, softly closing her eyes and pursing her lips to accept the kiss. The breathing in his helmet hitched again in that familiar way— enjoyment, was it? He enjoyed when she accepted his kisses. He enjoyed playing human with her.

When his index finger was finished taking a few lingering traces over her lips, he finally removed them, content with their exchange. On breathless words, she found herself replying despite his lack of English, feeling the desire to share her sentiment.

“Thank you.”

Indeed, the words were absolutely meaningless to him, but nonetheless he seemed to enjoy the softness in her voice when she said them. At her surprise, he stood up after that, returning out to the hallway to pull free his blade from the ground. After the shill cry of the tiles sliding against metal ceased, he slammed the knife back into the ground ahead of him, pushing it forward and leaving her to continue his trails. 

A bit more stable this time, she swayed up to her feet, dumbfounded at the encounter. A monster like him, how did he know to be kind and gentle? Or better question— _why_ would he be kind or gentle?

It didn’t make much sense. Was she his pet, his little plaything? Did he just want someone around for company, or did he want a personal fuck toy he can entertain himself with?

Despite her previous certainties about the fuck toy idea, his recent behavior seemed to counter that idea. He didn’t ravish her this time, or even try to. Instead, after feeding her and gifting her a better blanket, he gave her a kiss and departed back to his usual routines.

As she made her way back to the hallway, following those lurid red trails with her eyes all the way up to the bend where they disappeared to the adjacent hallway, Lucasta found herself wondering if Pyramid Head knew about the concept of human lovers. He had to have at least an idea of human relationships, right? Why else would he even try to simulate kisses with her, or give her little gifts to make her comfortable. Was he trying to fulfill the role of a lover?

 _No_ , Lucasta suddenly concluded, after remembering Harper and Theo. Beasts like him have no concept of love, no sympathy or kindness in their hearts. For whatever reason she was spared for now, but she had no clue what made her different from Harper or Theo to earn his mercy.

Either way, she still found her way towards the exit gates, still wanting to get to Lampkin Lane. Although this time, she wasn’t too certain her intent was to go there to stay— she knew Harper had left some medical supplies there, and Lucasta wanted to make it there to properly treat her forearm. But once that is done, she couldn’t lie to herself that her intent wasn’t to come back here. Whatever Pyramid Head’s reasons were to spare her, she’s certain Midwich Elementary would tragically be the safest place for her to remain at.

Traveling through the exit gates was always a jarring experience, but luckily Lampkin Lane was the next realm over. After traversing the vast and foggy fields separating them, she spotted the familiar outline of another exit gate in the distance, sighing in relief to see the familiar sight. The walk was only about ten minutes from this exit gate to Midwich’s, but stepping into this realm felt like being on a whole different planet. 

The air felt clear and fresh, and she took a few moments just to inhale deeply with each breath, as if the clean air was sanitizing her lungs.

It tasted like freedom, and the energy from her recent meal implored her to openly run down the center of the street, feeling revitalized as the cold air pelted her face. Stopping at the end where her and her friends’ old hideaway house was, she did a joyous pivot on her feet, before walking up boldly through the front door. Harper, Theo, and her used to always sneak in through the back window to avoid attention, but she felt all too comfortable in this familiar street, and wagered that Myers and Ghostface must’ve stopped patrolling weeks ago after realizing her and her friends were gone.

Confident in her belief, she loudly and unabashedly ran up the stairs, entering the first room to the right to find their old supply room, remarkably untouched. They were unable to bring everything with them, and they had fled in such a hurry that they neglected bringing much other than a single over-stuffed medkit. It was originally on Harper, but after perishing on the hook that medkit was abandoned right beneath her body, with Lucasta not daring to get close enough to her corpse to snatch it. 

Instead, she opened up one of their lesser medkits here. It wasn’t as good as the one Harper had brought to Midwich Elementary, but it was better than nothing, and Lucasta could make do with what she got.

Eagerly, she popped it open and gleefully pulled out proper gauze wrappings and a single use pouch of antibiotic ointment. The makeshift canvas wrapping around her forearm was easy to undo, and after tearing open the ointment package with her teeth, she generously squeezed the cool gel onto the jagged scab along the back of her forearm. Luckily it wasn’t deep, but it was still from a dirty metal locker and definitely not sanitary. After she patched her arm up, and wrapped it nice and tight, she rummaged through their old medical supplies, picking the few diamonds in the rough to cram into the medkit to bring back with her.

Content with her lot, she wondered if their meager stockpile of non-perishables was still in the kitchen downstairs. Again, due to the pressure of Myers and Ghostface in the area, they got out of dodge in quite a hurry, consequently leaving behind quite a bit of useful supplies. Running back downstairs, Lucasta felt like she was flying off the balls of her feet, too ecstatic to remember she would be returning to the realm with her dead friends shortly. Instead, she relished in these sweet moments, and took delight in the simulacrum of humanity that the Entity had fabricated here. The house was in a sad, shabby state, but it was still a house. All the little mementos of her first two months here with her friends were left scattered about. On her way to the kitchen towards the back of the house, she saw the red and purple pattern blanket that Harper used to sleep with, crammed up in a bundle against the wall and next to an armchair.

In pleasant surprise, Lucasta stopped in her tracks and made a short pivot toward the armchair. Harper had spent precious minutes frantically looking for that blanket before they left, and she ended up not finding it in time when they fled. Delighted, Lucasta walked up towards the wall it was crumbled up against, remembering fondly how often Harper napped on the armchair with it.

Lost in those bittersweet memories, she almost didn’t hear the soft scuff of shoes on the wooden floor behind her. But, by the time she heard it, it was already too late.

Suddenly, a force slammed the front of her body against the wall, and Lucasta let out a choked gasp as her hands came up to break the impact a little too late. Dread suddenly rose up inside her, and she felt that familiar heat in her feet begging her to run, despite a powerful hand on the back of her neck keeping the side of her face pressed hard into the moldering wallpaper. Clawing desperately into the wall, she tried pushing back for a split second to get out of the hold, only immediately stopping when she felt the sharp tip of a knife pressed threateningly against her lower back.

“So, you came back. Where’s your little friends this time, are they somewhere near?” The voice behind her was low, but absolutely drenched in delight, whispering in a hot breath almost up to her ear. Out of the corner of her eye through the mess of her black hair, she caught just a glimpse of a white mask, and judging by the short stature— as this man was on level with her as he spoke into her ear— Lucasta came upon the dreaded realization that it was Ghostface.

“No, no, t-they’re not here.” She choked out, trying to keep her body absolutely still to prevent the knife from piercing into her back, second-guessing whether or not it’s a good idea to tell him her friends aren’t here. Perhaps it was just instinctive that she replied that they weren’t, since in all her nightmares of her getting caught she never revealed her friends’ location.

The man behind her clicked his tongue, as if disappointed.

“You aren’t lying to me, are you? I saw you three hanging around here a few weeks ago. Maybe if you tell me where they are, I’ll make this easy for you.” Those hot words rolled down the back of her neck, causing a horrifying wave of goosebumps to ripple down her skin. Despite it, Lucasta kept down the urge to tremble as best she could, feeling the looming threat of a knife in her back all-consuming and hard to think through.

“I-I’m not, I swear I’m not lying!” Her words were a blubbering mess, constricted with fear and panic, not even thinking through whether or not it was the response Ghostface was even looking to hear.

“I don’t believe you, darling.” Just barely, that grip on the back of her neck tightened to keep her still, as he just barely began pressing the knife in. It cut through her shirt and barely punctured into her skin, but the pain still seized her, and she cried out deliriously. “Maybe you don’t want this to be easy, then. You want this the hard way? I don’t mind, it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to play with my prey.”

“Please! P-please, I swear, they’re already dead.” Begging, she tried to press further into the wall to get away from the knife, only to find him effortlessly keeping it in place. 

Clicking his tongue once more in disappointment, he pressed it in just a tad further, but even the smallest movement of it ripped a torrent of pain through her muscles. Hot blood began seeping from the stab wound, and she could feel it run down her lower back.

“The hard way it is, then. If you won’t tell me where they are, maybe I should make you scream so loud they’ll have to come for you.” The voice ended with a little chuckle, as if amused at the idea of torturing her. 

In that moment, the hot feeling in her feet rushed up to her body, and Lucasta blindly kicked a leg back to get that horrible knife out of her skin. It was fast, almost an instinctual moment of panic, and when she whipped around she saw Ghostface stumble back before catching himself, voice practically growling as he reached forward for her.

A black gloved hand clenched tight around her bandaged forearm, and the sudden bloom of pain along the fresh wound took her off guard enough that he easily pulled her down onto the floor. Smacking down stomach first, she felt stars in her head from the hard fall, not even fully processing when the killer behind her came down to straddle her hips.

That horrible knife returned against her back again, this time higher up. In frustration with her attitude, he preemptively began to press it in, only for the agony to cause her arms to desperately try and push herself away. Stopping her, his free hand gripped into the back of one of her upper arms, holding it hard in place against the ground as he began to slowly twist the knife. It wasn’t further than maybe an inch in, but everything in its path was alight in blinding pain, and her vocal cords rose into a tormented scream.

Another chuckle behind her, dark and deep.

“There we go, sweetheart. Keep screaming for me.”

The knife finally withdrew, but the relief was short lived as he brought his thumb up to press into the fresh wound. Although the pain only increased, blinding her in absolute agony, her scream cut out into a stifled gasp, vision tunneling and mind faltering. It was too much, it was way too much— Lucasta felt she was going to pass out.

Only at the cease of her screaming did he stop, disappointment once again. His thumb withdrew, sailing down her back and holding into the slack of her shirt. Pushing it up to get a better look at his work, he was surprised when his attention was drawn away from her two stab wounds, and instead landed curiously on the dark bruising decorating the skin above each of her hip bones.

It looked fresh, and the outlining marks of brutal fingers were apparent. This wasn’t an accident; somebody had gripped into her hips. _Hard_.

Much softer compared to the sadist press of his thumb into her stab wound, he released his grip on her arm and gently traced the bruising with his fingertips, cocking his head in curiosity.

“What's this? You mind telling me how you got these marks?” The sudden casualness in his tone was a cruel juxtaposition to the sadist glee in it moments ago. 

Pain somewhat subsiding from his removed thumb, Lucasta whimpered as she blinked a few times to recalibrate back to the world around her, still a bit lightheaded. For a second she wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but feeling those evil hands trace ever-so-softly over her hips reminded her of the bruising they bore from when Pyramid Head fucked her.

Despite her not even noticing at the time because of her complete enrapturement, she knew quickly afterwards that his harsh gripping earned her quite a few dark bruises decorating her skin.

Swallowing thickly, she wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“I… I-I tripped over a branch the other day.” Stuttering, words tripping over themselves on delivery, she felt him see through them like glass.

“Darling, you’re lying to me again.” He pushed her shirt up even higher with his other hand, as if trying to see if she bore any other conspicuous marks. “I don’t like liars. Why don’t you try again?”

She could hear him reach for his knife, she heard the clink of metal on hardwood. It felt as if her chest seized into itself, fear redoubled, only to feel him slide it under her shirt and cut up to split the back open.

“I-I was out, I tripped, and I fell on some rocks—“ despite the invasive gloved hand running up and down her exposed back looking for marks, she managed to squeak out her little lie again, not even sure if hiding the truth would spare her from anything. It seemed like Ghostface was too much of a sadist to mercy her either way.

“Is that so? You’re really trying to tell me some rocks left these bruises?” The knife continued cutting away, this time slitting open the back of her two sleeves. When he pushed aside the tatters of her shirt, he noticed dark bruising also wrapped around the back of her neck. He scoffed at it, despite already knowing she was lying. “Did these _rocks_ also hold you down? It looks like they left marks on your neck, and those definitely aren’t mine.”

At that, she gave a soft cry, not sure if it was in shame of hiding her relations with Pyramid Head or if it was in fear of her sudden exposure from her shredded shirt. The ones on her neck wasn’t even from the sex, those were from afterwards when Pyramid Head held her down and Tormented her in his rage.

“Just tell me who fucked you, sweetheart. We don’t need to keep beating around the bush.” The hand holding his knife came down aside her head, allowing him to lean up close to her ear. Just barely, she felt his other hand wander, trailing over the bruises on her hips again. “These were from some pretty large hands. Was it Myers? I’ve never thought of him as the sexually frustrated type. Or maybe it was Freddy, I know he has some interesting tastes.”

“No, n-no, it wasn’t, I swear—“ 

Those hands found her waistband, and the tips of his fingers just barely dipped under the hem.

“Did he hold you down like this when he did it? Oh come on, you _have_ to tell me.” The amusement in his voice was sickening, listening to him gleefully speculate over what he thought happened, and Lucasta felt her stomach in her throat.

“P-please, please _no—_ “

At her reluctance to yield any information to him, he scoffed as he sat back up, dragging the tip of his knife teasingly down her back, threatening what will come if she keeps this up.

“How about a deal, then? You tell me the details about these marks, and I’ll spare you.”

She nearly choked on the sob in her throat when she heard him, seeing a sliver of light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe she could get out of this, she just needed to give him what he wanted. And then, just maybe she could hopefully walk out with just the two shallow stab wounds.

“Y-you promise?” She stuttered, voice hoarse and weak, but betraying the hope hanging on it.

His voice seemed to purr, and the knife left her skin to show his delight in her compliance.

“You have my word, darling. I won’t kill you if you tell. I’ll let you go, scot-free.” The smooth texture of his black glove came to ghost the bruises on her neck as he spoke, and she could practically hear the devious grin on his face when he said it, despite both her being pressed into the floor and him wearing a mask.

There was a slight tremble in her voice when she yielded, giving him what he wanted.

“They’re…” she swallowed, not believing what she was willingly telling him, “they’re from Pyramid Head.”

“Pyramid Head! Well, I’m surprised you’re even alive, quite frankly.” The beam in his voice as he responded sounded absolutely sadistic, taking delight in the sick mental picture it gave him. “It does make sense though, you can tell that guy is _definitely_ sexually frustrated.”

Hearing her choke up on a stifled cry, watery eyes practically blinding her, he leaned down over her again, a single hand ghosting up to softly hold over the back of her neck.

“Did he hold you down like this, sweetheart? Did he choke you as he fucked you into the floor?” 

“I-it wasn’t like that, n-no…” 

Her response earned a chuckle, deep and dark.

“Oh, I think it was. You don’t have to keep lying to me anymore.”

Although her back was still searing with pain, she felt something press into her where he straddled. A cold fear washed over her body, dreading to acknowledge what it felt like.

He was hard. Ghostface was getting off on this.

It was turning him on, hearing her describe what he assumed was a rape. The tension in her chest felt heavy, holding her down— Ghostface was a _complete_ sadist, a heartless cruel monster that got aroused by this kind of thing.

“ _Please_. Please, I told you what you wanted. Please just let me go…” Whatever small sliver of hope she had was moldering away, and she felt the fingertips under her jeans’ waistband begin to tug down. 

She let out a harrowing cry.

“You _promised_ _!_ Please, please you _promised_ me.”

Hearing her cries, Ghostface chuckled again, debating whether he liked them better than her screams.

“I only promised I wasn’t gonna kill you. Darling, I’m gonna do _whatever_ _else_ I want with you.” The tight waistband of her jeans got yanked down so aggressively that it almost burned, and when she tried to push on her hands to get up, she felt a merciless thumb dig back into her stab wound, ripping a scream from her throat and she fell back pitifully into the hardwood.

“Oh, fight a little harder, sweetheart. It’s so cute to see you worked up.” Those words were laced with saccharine sweetness, almost mocking her.

It felt like her heart collapsed in her chest when she realized she couldn’t stop this. Bitterly, she continued to sob into the floor, feeling her pants get tugged off, with Ghostface only getting up to tear them off from her ankles, quickly being followed by her panties.

“Don’t worry. You’re gonna live, darling. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

When he returned to straddle up against her again, she could feel her bare skin crawl when he pressed his hips in, teasing her with the firmness of his erection.

She’s not getting out of this. The space in her head was cloudy, fading out, not feeling like any of this could even be real.

Why didn’t she just let him kill her?

That would’ve probably been better than what Ghostface had in store for her tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I wanted to write in some Ghostface smut too, so that's getting tied in. This chapter was meant to introduce him, and expect the next to just be straight noncon. Huge warning in that department, obviously.
> 
> At this point I'm really just writing for me since nobody is really intrested in this story, but on the off-chance someone is reading this, feel free to comment down below. Tell me whatcha think about Ghostface being in this, or if it even was a good idea tying him in at all.
> 
> Until next time, see ya <3


	5. It’s All So Incredibly Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucasta has a bad experience with Ghostface. It leaves her crawling back to the only kindness she could find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, this came out way darker and more brutal than I thought this was gonna be. So um, please heed the tags on this one, we got a rough one fellas.
> 
> Specific triggers for this chapter: explicit noncon, blood and gore, unaroused victim, pet names (if that’s a trigger?), sexual assault PTSD, and self-blame.
> 
> In sum, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
> 
> As for everyone else, enjoy the tragedy!

With her shirt cut in pieces around her and her jeans and underwear yanked violently off, Lucasta was practically exposed and naked before Ghostface. All save for her bra, which his nimble fingers were already undoing by the time he was straddled over her again.

“God, he must’ve held back so much if you’re here in one peice. I wish I could tell you I’d do the same, but I’ll be honest, I’d much rather hear you scream for me.”

Lucasta could barely hear him, sobbing and clawing desperately into the floor, unable to properly squirm away with him sitting on her back like this. When he slid down to adjust himself behind her ass, she felt the presence of his thumb return, this time to her lower stab wound to threaten what he would do if she tried to get him off.

“P-please don’t, please you promised, you promised, y-you _promised…_ ” she whimpered breathlessly despite him only chuckling in response, shoving his knee between the backs of her thighs to force her legs open. Once they were, he was quick to settle between them, making it impossible for her to close her legs from him.

“I already told you, I only promised you’d live. You are alive right now, yes?” She heard a crinkle of cloth behind her, followed by the unmistakable sound of a belt being unbuckled. The dread in her chest ached so hard, so absolutely terrified. Before she knew it, he had pulled out his cock and leaned back over her, making her vividly feel the line of it against her rear as he reached up higher on her body.

Suddenly, two fingers returned to her upper stab wound— the deeper one of the two— and began to press the edges to encourage more blood to seep out. The burning pain caused her to cry out and struggle, but at this point it was an easy task to keep her pinned down.

“You should be thanking me, I’m doing you a favor. Unless you’d prefer me in dry.”

Her mind was too scattered by the pain to process what he was saying, it was only when those cruel fingers removed did she realize what he meant.

He was using her blood as lube.

The knot in her stomach twisted up, hearing the slick sound of him coating his cock with the remnants of her blood on his fingers. Her stomach violently churned; this was sick, this was _disgusting_.

Satisfied with his makeshift lube, he moved back down and pressed her thighs open slightly wider, before the head of his wet cock met with her entrance. 

Instead of her loud cries, she was weakly shaking her head as much as she could in her confined position, hot tears rolling down the side of her face, pressed hard into the floor as she continued to sob in desolation.

When he shoved himself in, the blood didn’t provide much protection against her complete dryness, and the invasion felt as if it tore straight through her body. Finally, her weak voice raised up into a scream again, cut up on her tragic sobs.

Behind her, he groaned in absolute delight, either from her desperate screams or from the way her unprepared walls clung tight around his cock. He definitely felt larger than the average male, but nowhere near as thick and large as Pyramid Head’s. Still, with how unprepared she was, the pain coursed through her body violently like a vice.

Testing the waters, he gave a shallow thrust into her, loving the way it caused her to hiccup on her cries. 

“Don’t worry, darling. This probably won’t hurt as much as he did.” Still convinced the bruises on her hips were a result of Pyramid Head raping her, he gave another savage thrust, enjoying hilting himself into her as deep as he could. “You should try and relax. This won’t be so bad. Or go ahead, keep fighting it, I honestly don’t care.”

Emphasizing that sentiment, he pulled back again, giving another hard thrust into her unprepared body. It didn’t get better, each tiny movement felt like it scorched and burned through her, like it was tearing her in half. When she felt the warmth of blood seep down over her thighs, she knew it wasn’t the blood he had taken from her stab wound. She knew it was from him literally tearing through her body. 

Perhaps not satisfied at his lack of depth in this position, he pulled out, standing up on his knees and yanking her hips up to him. Although her legs felt like jello, the tightness of the position kept her face pressed hard into the floor beneath her, leaving her ass up for his convenience.

Despite Lucasta squirming again to try and get her hips back down, she heard him remove his gloves and grip hard into her already bruised hips, digging in his nails punishingly to keep her in place.

Suddenly, he forced his cock back into her body again, and the pain burned through her once more as he hilted himself deeper than before.

All she could do was scream and sob into the hardwood beneath her, completely helpless to stop him.

“You feel so tight, darling. He must’ve had a real treat with you.” He picked up his speed, each thrust feeling like a violent stab into her body, and his breathy deep voice chuckled again in amusement to the way her walls tensed in pain around him. “Oh sweetheart, tell me how much it hurts. Are you still sore from when he raped you? I bet you are, I bet he must’ve battered a small thing like you.”

Luckily, despite this pain absolutely tearing her body apart, soreness from her time with Pyramid Head wasn’t an issue. Pyramid Head was so gentle with her, and prepared her so slowly and cautiously to make sure she could handle his intimidating size. He had left her with nothing but pleasure, not even a sliver of soreness or ache from their encounter, easing her in with so much concern for her wellbeing. The very most she got was just those sweet bruises on her hips, bruises she had invited, loving the way he held on tight to her as he fucked her sweetly.

The memories made her heart ache, a cruel juxtaposition to the treatment Ghostface was giving her.

Suddenly, those nails in her hips dug mercilessly in, dragging up and leaving deep scratches breaking her skin, earning another hoarse cry from her throat.

“Fucking _listen_ to me. Are you listening? Tell me how it feels. Tell me how much it fucking hurts.”

The sadism was really coming out, and his voice was frustrated and dark, like he was getting off on the idea of this being as painful as possible for her.

Squeaking in response, her voice was scratchy and dry, her vocal cords absolutely torn apart from all her bitter screaming.

“It _hurts_. Please, it h-hurts so much, just let m-me go—“

Although she knew it was exactly what he wanted to hear, she hoped it would spare her some pain or punishment. He only seemed to make it worse when she fought it.

Entertained by her compliance, his pleasured groans sounded like a purr, and the harsh nails cutting into her hips softened back into a steady grip to reward her for listening.

“There we go. This doesn’t have to be hard, darling.” Even rougher this time, his thrusts picked up speed again, stabbing into her in all the wrong ways as he brutally continued, “Don’t worry, I’m almost done. I’ll finish inside you and you’ll be free to go. Just keep up those cries for me.”

Unintentionally complying, she did find herself wrecked with another hard sob tightening her throat, voice quivering and breaking as she spoke up, words cut up by his hard thrusts jostling her body.

“Please n-not inside, _please_.”

Her plea earned another one of his dark chuckles, amused that she thought he even cared to listen to her wishes. Lucasta was already in so much pain, already so torn apart that the last thing she wanted was this unprotected rape to risk impregnating her. She wasn’t even sure if it was possible, but she assumed so since she still got her period in this twisted world the Entity made. Even though she willingly let Pyramid Head cum inside her, she at least took solace in the fact he wasn’t even human, and therefore couldn’t get her pregnant even if he wanted to.

But Ghostface on the other hand, he was a monster, but he was still definitely human. And therefore, there was a real risk to observe if he so happened to want to finish inside of her.

Realizing he wasn’t answering her pleas, her voice raised up, tragically hoarse from the strain.

“Please, I’m _begging_ you. Not inside, n-not inside—“

Clicking his tongue curiously, his thrusting slowed down, as if savoring the pull in and out.

“You’re not in a position to make that call, sweetheart. Got to leave you with something to remember me by, right?” The gleeful tone in his voice was vile, absolutely enamored by the idea of cumming inside her against her wishes. “What, are you worried about me getting you pregnant? Get real. Even if I did, you won’t survive here long enough to ever make it to term.”

Those nails gripped in again, and his thrusts got harder, like his own twisted words were getting him into this even more.

“But if you’re so worried, darling, I’ll make you another promise. If you do end up pregnant, I’ll put you out of your misery myself. I’ll slit your throat long before you’ll ever have to worry about carrying my child.” Snickering again, he loved feeling the way her body clenched around his cock as she sobbed, completely devastated at the idea. Perhaps that’s what did it for him, imagining coming across her months from now with a rounded belly, picturing her waking up each day with the miserable reminder of what he did to her. And gracing her with a final escape, taking the edge of his knife against the soft flesh of her neck, watching the look of horror on her face and torrents of blood spill out over her chest.

The idea of slitting her throat really did it for him, being the sick sadist he was. And riding off that idea, he snapped into her hard, and Lucasta could just barely hear his shuddering moan of pleasure in between her hiccuping cries. As he came, he gave a few sharp jerks of his hips into her, ravishing the feeling to the last moment.

Her heart sank. He _did_ finish inside. Just like he said he would.

Her little cries stopped. Inside, the whole cavity of her body felt hollow, like if he pressed against her one more time her skin would just collapse in on itself. Empty, and broken, and absolutely numb from the violent assault.

When he withdrew, she felt his hand push inconsiderately against her hip to push her away from him, falling limply back to the floor. Her side smack the hardwood with her deadweight, with Lucasta too numb to even try bracing herself. Instead, once on the floor, she instinctively curled up in the fetal position, a slight tremor seizing her body.

Blinking her bleary eyes to look up at him, she watched him up on his knees still, shaking his cock from the base to flick off the frothy combination of cum and blood on it. Once content with it being as clean as it’s getting, he picked up the remaining shreds of her shirt to wipe off his hands, before grabbing his black gloves and sliding them back on. Raising to a stand, he was remarkably still clothed compared to her, with nothing more from the encounter than a few speckles of her blood against his robe where it was pulled aside. Once he put his dick back into his black trousers, he buckled his belt back around, pulling his robes back in place and running his hands down the front to smooth it with a sigh.

After reaching back down to retrieve his bloodied knife, he wipes it clean with his other hand, before holstering it in the clip on his belt. After that, Ghostface crossed his arms around his chest, and leaned onto his hip as if annoyed she was still on the floor.

“Come on, it wasn’t so bad. Get up now, and get out of here before I reconsider my promise.” Even though his word didn’t actually mean much to him either way, he was a bit entertained with the idea of this haunting her, and was letting her go more for that rather than any actual honor his promise held. 

After she spent another moment just shivering on the floor, irritation tainted his tone.

“Are you fucking listening? I said get out. I’m not joking about the reconsideration, I’ll gladly slit your throat if you wanna stay here.”

Blinking up at him, Ghostface enjoyed when he recognized fear decorating her broken expression, and watched her as she sluggishly attempted to push herself off the floor. 

When she got onto her feet, she gave a pained wince and stumbled to the wall, leaning desperately into it to relieve some of the ache from trying to walk. When she looked up at him, he seemed unfazed by her struggle, if anything just enjoying the show.

Legs shaky and feeling wet blood still lining the inside of her thighs, she hesitantly stepped closer to retrieve her jeans, bra, and underwear. Her shirt was already too far ruined to even try to salvage, and instead she found herself reaching for Harper’s old blanket on the floor, throwing it around her shoulders pitifully. When the fabric rubbed against the fresh open stab wounds on her back, her breath hitched and expression twisted in pain, earning another laugh from Ghostface as he stepped up to her.

When his gloved hand came up under her chin, he yanked her face harshly to look up at him, forcing her to lock her eyes on his pale white mask.

Throat tightening, she winced out a pathetic cry, skin burning in repulsion from his touch.

“Calm down, darling. You’re alive. Now get yourself together and get the fuck out if you want to keep it that way.”

With that, his hand harshly shoved her face off, and she stumbled back weakly, resorting to a desperate hold onto the wall again to stabilize herself. Not looking for him to follow through on his threat, she quickly turned around, walking to the front doorway shaking like a newborn deer.

“Wait.”

Once she got to the door frame, she heard that scuff of his shoes again, shoulders tense when she recognized he was approaching. Whipping around fast, she nearly fell over, hand clinging onto the door frame to keep herself up.

He held in his hand her overstuffed medkit that she had retrieved from upstairs, offering it out to her.

“You forgot this, sweetheart.”

Swallowing, mouth dry as a desert, she hesitantly took the medkit, struggling to hold it in hand with her arm in a cradle around her clothes.

His tongue clicked again. The noise was too familiar now, and a horrible chill went down her spine.

“Do I get a thank you?”

Although her voice was borderline gone, she found herself complying, strained words tasting vile in her mouth.

“T-thank you.”

He seemed pleased.

“There we go. Just remember, this was your one get out of jail free card. If I come across you again, I won’t be so merciful, understand?” His head tilted slightly to the side with his question, and she didn’t hesitant to quickly nod at him to signify she understood. 

“Attagirl! That’s the spirit. Now, go run off and become someone else’s problem. Maybe if you’re lucky, some other killer might find use outta you too.”

Complying eagerly, she turned quickly on her feet, stumbling out of the house and staggering out to the street. When she took one horrible glance back, she saw him watching her, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. Seeing her, he slightly raised a gloved hand, giving a little casual wave goodbye at her.

“Until next time, darling.” With that, he turned on his heel, heading back into the house.

Lucasta’s stomach twisted up. Body shaking, she collapsed on her knees in the streets, dropping her stuff. Leaning over, she suddenly heaved, throwing up from a mixture of stress and pain and trauma to what she just endured. She remained for a few moments, dry heaving after the remaining contents of her stomach came up, before wiping a trembling hand across her face and collecting her stuff up in her arms again.

Miserable, she borderline limped her way back to the exit gates, having her fill of Lampkin Lane. She didn’t feel safe here anymore. That shabby little hideaway house, her last remnant of happy memories in this hellscape, was now tarnished and ruined like everything else here. She couldn’t imagine ever wanting to go back to it again. 

Instead, she shambled through the gates and into the foggy fields, heading back to Silent Hill. Back to the closest thing to safety she could find in an abysmal world like this one.

Her mind must’ve turned off again, numb and empty like how her body felt. Because she didn’t even feel like it was ten minutes by the time she stumbled into Midwich Elementary; although, she most definitely took longer than ten minutes considering her painfully slow pace. Stepping inside the twisted realm, the familiar reek of death and decay pierced her sinuses, and if she hadn’t already vomited earlier she probably would’ve heaved.

But god, it was the closest thing to relief she had, and she shuddered out a stifled exhale of calm, pushing herself to make it to the closest classroom for refuge. Dropping her stuff on the floor indiscriminately, she shuffled over to the center of the classroom, standing up shaky on her feet but knowing it’s going to hurt to sit down on the floor.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, blankly staring into the floor, but it was long enough for Pyramid Head to stumble upon her light blood trail from the exit gates, following it curiously to the classroom she was in.

Entering it, he suddenly froze in his tracks, looking down at the crumble of clothes on the floor and the bundled blanket next to a dented medkit box. Reluctantly, he followed his gaze up the trail of blood leaving the items, before seeing his sweet Innocent One standing naked and unsteady in the center of the room, newfound bruises and fresh scratches down the sides of her hips. Looking down, his chest clenched in pain when he saw the source of blood, a light trickle running down the inside of her thighs.

He dropped his great knife abruptly, and the loud clank must’ve startled her back to reality, making her flinch and look up at him with wide, terrified eyes.

Pyramid Head has seen that expression before. He has _caused_ that expression before. It was the face of the violated, it was the broken and empty look that all the victims of his sexual assaults wore in the past. If he hadn’t known it so well, then the horrible state of her body was enough to showcase the work of a monster on it, someone abusing her fragility to take what they wanted and break her down into crumbling pieces.

_My sweet Innocent One… How did this happen to you?_

Despite the obvious pain in her expression to walk, she stumbled over to him with watery eyes, almost collapsing into his receiving arms as she sobbed out a harrowing cry. Sinking down to his knees, Pyramid Head gently pulled her up into a cradle in his lap, careful to be slow with her broken body, not wanting one further ounce of pain to such a special, sinless creature.

The closest thing to comfort in this awful world, she buried her teary face hard into the apron over his chest, not even caring about the dried blood and grim caking it. 

_Safety_ , it felt like. Not just comfort— she finally felt _safe_ from Ghostface’s abuses.

The pained hitches in his breathing told her enough. He knew what had happened, she knew he knew. Their language barrier prevented any other information from coming across, no who or why or where, but at the very least she knew he understood what had happened to her.

“H-he wouldn’t stop, he just wouldn’t _stop—_ “ she cried bitterly into his chest, knowing the words were absolutely pointless to say out loud, but needing to just get anything out of her. All he could do was hold into her tight, almost not noticing when she suddenly winced in pain as his forearm pressed into her back to support her. Slowly as to not cause her to collapse in his lap, he retreated both hands, unsure what he did but certain that cry of pain was because of him.

Swallowing down the agony of her aching back, Lucasta tried her best to stifle her noises of pain, not wanting Pyramid Head to mistake any of this pain as his doing. Meekly, to illustrate to him the cause, she leaned off of his chest and slowly twisted so that her back was now facing him, careful not to bump into the beak of his unwieldy pyramid.

With her back now towards him, he saw two fresh bloody stab wounds, one particularly deeper and wider than the other. 

His throat tightened up. 

His Innocent One, his sweet special Innocent One. 

Someone had stabbed her, violated her, and left her to stumble back to where she came from.

Rage curled down deep in his chest, but in no way directed at her. That anger, that blinding hatred— he felt compelled by every bone in his body to force this sinner to atone, make them make amends for a sin as great as this one, through brutal judgement by his own hands.

He couldn’t even feel this sinner in the ether around him, but his body was still sensing his sins nonetheless, his vices bleeding into Pyramid Head by proxy of his devastated victim.

But all he could do now was comfort. That rage had no place coming out right now. He must focus his attention and energy on his sweet Innocent One, and grant her the utmost care he possibly can.

_You didn’t deserve this. Sweet Innocent One, you’re in a safe place now. Nothing bad will happen to you here._

Reaching to the side for the blanket and medkit she arrived with, he wrapped the fabric around the front of her bare torso for warmth, scooting a bit back from where she sat in his lap in order to treat her stab wounds. If there was anything to be glad about from this ordeal, it was at the notice that they were definitely not fatal. Painful, of course, but surely not something that threatened her precious life.

Popping open the medkit, Pyramid Head retrieved a few familiar items.

Although he was absolutely clueless on wound treatment, he has seen survivors healing in front of him plenty of times to have a general idea. Splash it with a cleansing liquid that causes pain, and then apply gauze to shield the wound from the environment.

Every single piece of his heart ached as he twisted open the alcohol bottle, pouring it over the wounds quickly to get it over with, feeling his chest constrict heavily with guilt when she cried out in pain to the burn.

The only mercy he could provide her with was that he was quick with it, hastily pressing clean gauze from the kit into the deeper of the two wounds. Taking out the roll of medical tape, he adhered the gauze down onto her skin, before repeating the process for the lower stab wound. The wrappings on her gashed forearm already appeared rewrapped with proper medical gauze, but he saw tinges of blood seeping through, the wound probably reopened from the assault.

Sucking in a staggering breath, he softly pulled his Innocent One back in close to him, feeling her tremble against his chest, despite both his warmth and the blanket around her. Perhaps she wasn’t trembling because of the cold, though. Was it fear? He hoped his sweet Innocent One wasn’t afraid, he would never allow harm to fall upon her in his presence.

At that thought, he remembered his crimes against her the day before, remembering how he had already failed her in that regard. Swallowing tensely, he promised himself not again. 

But even the cruelty of his Torment on her the other day couldn’t hold a candle to the severity of this assault.

Head leaned against him, he noticed she was speaking again, on a soft broken whisper. He didn’t understand her words, but he felt the depths of her sorrow as she spoke, the undeserved guilt enveloping them.

So much guilt, but none of it was hers to bear.

“I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have gone back to that house. There are no happy places here, there is nothing sacred in a world like this.” Although Lucasta spoke as if Ghostface’s actions were sacrilegious, there was a haunting guilt inside her head, picking herself apart bit by bit, finding blame in everything that she had done that led to him raping her.

She was so loud and exposed when she walked through Lampkin Lane, she used the front doorway of the house even though she knew she never should. Blinded by glee, she loudly ran up the stairs, and back down, just further drawing Ghostface to her location.

And then she thought about the assault. Him sitting on the back of her hips, stabbing into her back. Pushing up her shirt to find her bruises, the evidence of her relations with Pyramid Head. Mocking her for it. Torturing her for it.

God, was this what she deserved for sleeping with monsters? 

It almost felt like a punishment somehow, a punishment for giving in and letting Pyramid Head pleasure her in ways no killer should be. It felt like a punishment for having that bit of happiness in a place like this, for enjoying the surrogate of human comfort and companionship that Pyramid Head gave her.

The shame she had already felt for voluntarily sleeping with the murderer of her two friends redoubled, screaming at her that this is what she deserved. That this would have never happened if she didn’t have those godforsaken bruises on her.

Maybe then Ghostface would’ve just killed her. Probably tease her, and drag it out way longer than it should be, but what sadist wouldn’t. Either way, without those bruises he wouldn’t have held back, and that knife would have been buried way deeper into her body, only for him to wipe himself off and leave her to bleed out on the hardwood floor afterwards.

Perhaps that would’ve been better than this. God, why is everything that happens to her in this place somehow worse than death?

A feeble, trembling hand raised up, clenching weakly onto the slack of Pyramid Head’s apron. Somehow, he was the best thing here. He was her only source of comfort, her only reassurance that she wasn’t out and exposed for Ghostface to stumble upon again later. 

And his threat. God, she remembered his threat.

If he finds her again, he’ll slit her throat. It probably wouldn’t even matter either way if she actually got knocked up from tonight.

The trembling only increased violently, and she curled pitifully into him.

Pyramid Head couldn’t speak to her, not in words. But his head tilted down at her, and a gentle finger came up to trace around her lips softly, desperate to provide some sort of comfort.

_I’m here. You’re not alone. I’m not going to let anything happen to you._

It was silent, the air between them devoid of anything other than their breathing, his deep and troubled and hers pained and jagged.

But somehow, with her head laid against his warm chest, she somehow felt it somewhere in the ether, somewhere bleeding into her mind like before, the time he was so enraged his words radiated through her.

It was like the strongest of his emotions could command the air around him. It could leech into the ether, it can bleed into people’s minds like his Torment could.

But this time it wasn’t rage. It was sorrow, and heartbreak, and care. Pyramid Head was conveying emotions he didn’t even know he had.

The ether dipped into her, filling her head with his soft words.

_I love you, my sweet Innocent One._

He didn’t even make a single sound.

But still, it was all so incredibly loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I take it too far? I think I took it too far.  
> Sound off in the comments if I took it too far.
> 
> No but really, this was a dark chapter, I totally get if it wasn't anybody's jam. Let me know if I need to go lighter on the angst and trauma next time.
> 
> Also no one question why this chapter came out a day after the last one. Shush, I totally haven't be fixated on this story for the last 24 hours.
> 
> Also also, before I sign off, [here's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGKoTcbWAYE) the song that inspired the chapter title. For anyone interested.
> 
> Anywho, until next time! <3


	6. Boundaries Breached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyramid Head learns to care for Lucasta after her experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter than normal, told almost entirely from Pyramid Head's perspective.  
> Usual triggers apply. 
> 
> Enjoy <3

The next day after she awoke against Pyramid Head, she sniveled and clung into his apron needily. He had no need for sleep, not that it was even possible for him to sleep anyways, but still laid against the wall with her cuddled up into the nook of his arm for hours just to make sure she felt secure.

His Innocent One had awoken several times from her sleep cycle, whimpering or startling, and one time even screaming. The night terrors were hard for Pyramid Head to understand, but he thinks humans see things in their head while they sleep. It’s like a whole other universe that they can’t control, and it could play back their horrors to them if they are unfortunate enough.

It pained him to think that she was having nightmares about the assault. That ache in his chest festered incessantly every time she awoke, jumpy and startled and weeping bitterly into his arms. If only humans didn’t need to sleep, like he doesn’t. It was so painful to see her relive that trauma in her dreams.

Once she was awake, finally at the end of her human sleep cycle, he let her lay against him for a while, listening to her mutter to herself. The words had no meaning to him, but he felt the guilt in them. Bitter, undeserved guilt. He wished he could tell her it wasn’t her fault. He wished he could say she shouldn’t feel guilty.

“I-I shouldn’t have gone into that house. Why wouldn’t he stop? W-why couldn’t he just stop...”

After laying with her for another couple hours, Pyramid Head remembered about human bodily needs again. Gently, as to try and ease her body off of him and against the wall, he pressed her up and pushed off into a stand, looking down to see her big silver watery eyes looking up at him.

That ache in his chest spread again.

_I need to get you some food. I will be back, Innocent One._

Turning to pick up his great knife up from the floor, he felt a sudden weak tug on the cuff of his trousers, turning over to see the Innocent One pitifully grabbing at him. Her eyes were begging him to stay, begging her only protector to not leave her.

“P-please don’t go. Please, I don’t want him to come back…”

The ache spread, so seizing and powerful inside him. When she gave him a fervent shake of her head to further illustrate her opposition to his absence, trying to communicate in any way she could, he let out a defeated sigh. There was no way he would deny that to her.

Slowly, he gave her a short curt nod of his head; he wasn’t going to leave her, she won’t have to be alone.

_Alright, Innocent One. You can come with me._

Leaning down, he scooped her up in his free arm, careful to take a delicate yet secure hold around her. He wasn’t about to make the poor thing trail along behind him, not after watching how painful her walk appeared. Complying, her arms reached up to wrap around his neck, nestling her head right beneath his pyramid. She was still naked, but the blanket was loosely wrapped around her lower half, hopefully enough to keep her warm in combination with his body heat.

Although it pained him to see her so hurt and broken, he did enjoy how receptive it made her to him. It made her a clingy, needy thing, desperate for his company since she thought he was the only thing keeping her tormentor at bay. Pyramid Head recognized these were evil thoughts to have, to be finding a silver lining from this tragedy, and slightly enjoying her change of attitude that made her so dependent on him. 

It was horrible to acknowledge. It was horrible to think that this was how he felt, that he liked that she was so desperate for him that she tugged at his trousers and begged to join him. It was a horrible, horrible thing.

But he felt it anyway. Interwoven within the heartbreak, the sorrow, and the pain. Just in the slightest, he enjoyed her need for him. He enjoyed that she even had a need he was in a position to fill, that he could be that stability for her to anchor to.

It made him feel guilty. Just a bit.

When she noticed they were walking out to the open doorway leading to the courtyard, she began to squirm and whine in protest, and he stopped and stationed his blade to set her down.

_What is the matter, Innocent One?_

Those watery silver eyes took a glance to the outside, before closing painfully and shaking her head no.

Oh. The sinner he had executed was still putrefying into the grass corner out there.

_Is that what you’re afraid of? You can wait here if you don’t want to see him._

Although Pyramid Head felt no sympathy for that sick man, he knew that he meant something to his Innocent One. Just like the brown-eyed girl rotting on the hook up there like a slab of meat, that blond-haired man outside faced harsher atonement for his graver sins.

The brown-eyed girl was just a bully, but the blond-haired man was a pedophile. Not one that ever hurt anyone in person because of his dark desires, but one who sought to consume the content online, to watch others do what he was too ashamed to. The blond-haired man thought it made it better, that there was no sin since it wasn’t by his hand that those youths suffered. And other than that dark secret, he lived a fairly average life, enough so that most that knew him would probably call him kind. Sure, to others he can hide those sins, by not to the Executioner. Pyramid Head felt all sins, no matter how deep a sinner hides them.

So, he severed him clean in half in the courtyard. The crows come to pick at the maggots and insects festering in his moldering corpse, and it was quite easy for him to quickly swing his sword down onto one. It was how he got the bird for her to eat before. 

The black-feathered bird unfortunate enough to fall victim to his blade was easily scooped up, Pyramid Head not minding the drizzle of blood it left on his apron. It did stop to make him think though— his Innocent One seemed to mind the gore caked on his apron, so perhaps he should do something about it. When he had a moment to, he should find a way to clean it off. Perhaps the Innocent One knew how.

Returning to her, she was sitting up against the doorframe, blanket wrapped greedily around her shoulders. A tinge of blue was on her lips, obviously cold from the outside air, but also unwilling to break line of sight from Pyramid Head. 

It was as if she feared the moment he was gone that her abuser would fabricate behind her, stealing her away. He wished he could reassure her that that couldn’t happen, that he would feel such a sinner in his territory long before they ever got close to her.

Retrieving her, they returned once more to the room, meal in hand for her to eat.

Once it was done cooking, despite him knowing she hasn’t eaten since the other day, she picked slowly and shyly at her food. Determined to see her finish it, he sat down cross-legged before her, watching her until she painstakingly consumed it over the course of an hour.

But it was fine by him. Time doesn’t matter to him like it did to humans, he could wait forever if it meant substaining her body properly. 

When the clock had striked for the twelfth hour since she'd been awake, she began to get lethargic again. Understanding the need of another one of her human sleep cycles, he changed out the bandaging over her wounds, and held her fragile body against his until she slipped into her dreams. And then, she would stay under for most of the cycle, occasionally awakening in cries of terror that Pyramid Head would have to hold and comfort her through.

This became his new routine over the following week. Instead of dragging around his sword leaving his trails everywhere, he became her full-time companion.

After each sleep cycle, she would awaken, and they would spend a grace period together against the wall. In a hushed voice, she would whisper little things to him with words he didn’t understand. Their communication became physical more and more; reliant on nods and shakes of the head, the occasional point of a finger, and sometimes a tug. The Innocent One tugged often, that’s how he usually knew when she was asking for something. A tug on the front of his apron meant she wanted to lay against his chest, or cuddle. A tug on his hand meant she wanted it wrapped around her body. A tug on his index finger meant she wanted a kiss, or at least the closest thing he could give her as a kiss.

Slowly, he picked up on all these little gestures, wanting to understand what he could do for her.

During the day— or, at least the wakeful period of her human sleep cycle that would normally be day— he eventually gathered a new bird for her, skinning and cooking it over a fire made from the sparks of a stone sliding against his blade, and fed her. It was always a slow meal, but he was reluctant to give her anything she wanted if she hadn’t finished her meal.

If she tried to cop out and tug on the front of his apron, he would shake his head no. If she tried to point to the door, requesting they go out into the hallways— as she was still reliant on him carrying her for the most part— he would once again give her a no.

It was fine if she needed breaks while she ate, but he knew she was rejecting food for another reason. 

The pain inside her soured the ether, the underserved guilt had such a bitter taste; it was depression, a deep sadness that he wasn’t quite sure how to take away from her.

When she got lethargic, usually after twelve to fourteen hours after awakening, she would eventually fall back to sleep in his arms. Dutifully, he would stay the whole sleep cycle with her, grounding her whenever her nightmares kicked up. Sometimes, during the quiet monotonous hours of her sleep, he would look over her naked fragile body, and feel that familiar curl of lust inside him. It was hard to keep down, and it was also hard to ignore. But when she slept she looked the most peaceful, the most back to normal, and he found the familiar yearn awakening once more inside him.

He wouldn’t dare act on it. Not in her broken state. 

Worried that seeing him aroused and erect would be enough to scare her, he would purposely scoot her off his lap if she had fallen asleep in it. If she felt it beneath her, he knew it would shatter her. Pyramid Head didn’t even want to think about what it would do to his sweet Innocent One, he didn’t even want to _risk_ her thinking for a split moment that he would use her like that monster did.

So, he did his best to keep his lust to himself. Maybe one day she will heal enough, both mentally and physically, that they could cleanse their lust together again.

When the scabs of scratches along her hips were mostly sealed, she began wearing her jeans again. Whenever she had went that one tragic day had claimed her shirt, it seems, as it was missing from her person when she returned. It didn’t matter much though; she bundled up in her new blanket constantly, and he would hold and keep her warm while she slept.

A week went by with their little routines. Although it was a painful time to see her like this, Pyramid Head couldn’t lie that it was more exciting than making his trails all day. 

By the end of the week, he thought she was seeming better. Requesting kisses more often. Having nightmares less frequently. Finishing her meals a bit quicker.

The second week came, and she was walking normally again. Still frightened of solitude, she trailed behind him wherever he went, like a little duckling would to its mother. A fragile thing, prey to any evil that stumbled upon her. But she had her protector, and she would follow him wherever he went— except upstairs, and except out to the courtyard.

The third week, he wasn’t sure what happened. 

It was like she regressed. Her nightmares started up again, she began rejecting food. When she departed from his company for bathroom breaks, she would sometimes return with teary eyes, and wrap her arms around him and sob.

He didn’t understand. She was getting better, it seemed. He couldn’t ask his sweet Innocent One what was wrong.

It was just reaching the fourth week when he tried. It was after she had returned from a bathroom break teary-eyed again, silver of her iris spindles lost into a cloudy haze.

When she tried to pull him into a clinging embrace, Pyramid Head pulled back, and crouched down on level with her, careful to keep the encumberment of his pyramid to the side of her.

Removing his glove— as he had noticed she seemed to not like the feeling of his gloves on her bare skin— he brought a single index finger up to the corner of her eye, before softly trailing it down her cheek, following the path a tear would take. Once his calloused fingertip met her jawline, he cocked his head, signifying he was asking her a question.

_Why do you weep so often, Innocent One?_

Watching carefully into her expression, trying to memorize each feature to decipher a reply, he saw her bottom lip start to tremble, and her silver eyes break away to the floor to blink off a few hot tears.

It was then she pointed down the hallway, towards the stairway up.

She never goes upstairs.

Complying, he followed her as she somberly made her way over, gesturing up once more to confirm to him that they were going up. Nodding to signify he understood, he stepped up first, because he knew seeing her friend’s corpse frightened her. 

They went up, and the miasma of the skeletonizing corpse of that brown-eyed girl made his sweet Innocent One gag, stopping at the top of the stairs and turning to face the wall as she heaved. A supportive hand rubbed her upper back; she sometimes did this when she got too close to the corpse in the courtyard too, if she happened to catch glimpses of him from the doorway. But this brown-eyed girl, she seemed to have meant a lot more to her, and the harrowing agony she felt to see her dead body was so thick in the ether that it was palatable to Pyramid Head. 

After a few moments heaving up the contents of her stomach, shivering violently as she did so, she finally calmed enough to sloppily wipe a feeble hand across her face, before pointing down one of the hallways. The expression she wore was knitted tight, eyes locked to the wall across from the corpse and not daring to look a single degree in its direction.

When they walked down together, he took the side of her that was closer to the body, hoping to obscure it from her vision when they passed.

At a seemingly random point in the hallway, she stopped, this time gesturing to one of the classrooms before going inside. Tilting his head in confusion, he followed her, unsure why she was undertaking such a painful journey to get here.

_What are we doing here? What are you trying to tell me?_

The walls were adorned with the shambling remains of posters and pictures, with tables topped abound. Images on the wall were of some vague concepts Pyramid Head had a slight grasp on, of human skeletons and cell diagrams. His eyes followed up to where the Innocent One had stopped in front of the wall, the tremble on her body escalating, letting out a fragile cry as she sank down onto her knees and dropped her head into her hands.

Concerned and confused, he approached her hesitantly, unsure what caused such sudden and harrowing sobs from her. The strain sounded like it was ripping her vocal cords, hysterical and strong, and she heaved in her breaths heavy and fast as she hyperventilated.

That ache in his chest spread again.

_I want to help you. Please, tell me what is wrong._

A single hand gently came to rest on her shoulder as he crouched down beside her. Then, answering his question, she suddenly pointed up to the wall before her, up at the tattered remains of an old moldering science poster.

The picture appeared to be anatomical, a side-split diagram of what Pyramid Head assumed was a human. It appeared like it must have been female, but there was something wrong with the body.

The midsection was rounded out, extending well past where it should be. And within the cavity in the larger body’s belly was the picture of an undeveloped human, curled up into a ball.

That drawn out, agonizing ache in his chest collapsed in on itself.

Pyramid Head understood very little of human biology, but he knew some things. They can produce more of themselves when they mate, and the females birth the resulting offspring. That’s what the diagram was picturing, it was the result of such copulations.

It finally dawned on him what she was telling him.

She was pregnant.

The way his breathing hitch after a few moments told Lucasta he realized what she was trying to say. It hurt so much to think about, so much to rationalize. But last week she missed her period, and her clock was always consistent with her monthly cycle.

This month, for the first time ever since puberty, she missed her period.

And it pained her so much to know it was all because of what Ghostface did to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I used this chapter to really extend on my POV skills with Pyramid Head, I usually bounce between him and Lucasta but I felt this section would be best described from his narrative. 
> 
> This story is gonna turn real dark real fast. So um, readers beware. More Ghostface stuff up ahead.
> 
> Let me know whatcha think about this development! I really suck at introducing plot point/twists, so I tried my best.
> 
> Til next time <3


	7. Eye of The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucasta gets sick from her pregnacy, and askes to take a little trip outside of Midwich Elementary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend has been helping beta read and proofread lately, and had a major hand in helping with this chapter. So just wanted to say a huge thank you to him, you've been amazing <3
> 
> Anywho happy New Years everyone, here's finally chapter 7 lmao

There were absolutely no good things this deranged world gave her.

She had begged him. _Begged_. 

Body already bruised and violated, the one small thing Ghostface could have spared her was not finishing inside. That was it, just a quick withdrawal at the last second, just to prevent this very thing from happening.

But no, he just couldn’t. Ghostface was an absolute sadist, he took pleasure in doing everything that she begged him not to do. The high he rode was kindled by Lucasta’s misery: the twitch of her body in pain around him, the seep of her blood from his knife stabs, the cringe on her face when he called her _‘darling’_ or _‘sweetheart’_.

It was one more thing he could take from her, one further wish he could deny.

There wasn’t a world that existed that Ghostface _would’ve_ pulled out of her when he came.

And this was what his little choice cost her.

Lucasta was pregnant. She could hope in her heart that she wasn’t, that for whatever reason her period decided to be late for once, but each passing day drove another nail into her hope’s coffin.

Why couldn’t he just listen? Just that one simple request, the single sliver of mercy he could have spared her.

Lucasta was already certain it wasn’t Pyramid Head’s, despite some of her remaining hope trying to comfort her with that idea. Besides the dull metal pyramid for a head, he did look an awful lot like a human after all, and had the warmth of one too.

But there is no place for hope in a world like this.

Pyramid Head simply wasn’t human, despite Lucasta wishing he was just close enough. He didn’t eat nor drink— hell, he couldn’t even sleep. Of course, he did have ejeculate when he came, but Lucasta was certain it wasn’t for any reproductive purposes.

Despite any moldering hope wishing that maybe it was at least his, the reality of Ghostface being human made the idea nothing more than a fantasy.

Ghostface was living and breathing, red blood flowing through his veins and the desire to eat, drink, and sleep when he needed to. He was sadly human, despite being a monsterous one, and he actually carried the proper genetic material in his cum to make someone pregnant.

The thoughts soured her mind, making her cringe in repulsion. 

She didn’t want it. This pregnancy, or anything to do with it.

At least Pyramid Head seemed to understand her sorrow a bit more after she told him. The way he held her was firmer, secure in a way that she needed. Sometimes when he held her, his breathing would make a shuddering noise, of either frustration or sadness, and Lucasta wondered if that was the only way he could express his sorrow without eyes to cry through.

Although she could walk independently now, Pyramid Head still changed her wound dressings on her back since she couldn’t reach, and she still found herself meekly trailing behind him throughout the day. Part of her knew there was no way Ghostface would show up here, he probably didn’t even spare her a passing thought after the encounter— however, his threat still rang clear in her head, and she felt the words haunt her every waking moment.

If he comes across her, he is going to slit her throat. Put her out of her misery, he called it. Perhaps, that wasn’t that bad of an outcome. But Lucasta had plans before that happened.

It was the fifth passing week since the event— or two weeks since her missed period— that she got confirmation of her pregnancy.

A cold sweat drenched her skin when she awoke with a startle, stomach twisting violently around itself. Whining, Lucasta pushed off of Pyramid Head’s lap, much to his confusion.

Shaky, she swayed up to her feet, hand over her upper stomach where the pain was. The nausea was overwhelming, and with a weak stumbling gait she made it out the classroom and just barely to the double-doors leading to the courtyard when she collapsed onto her hands and knees and heaved.

A warm hand met the skin of her back, careful to avoid her two stab wounds. When she threw up, Pyramid Head often rubbed her back until she was done, in what Lucasta could only assume was an attempt at comfort. She had thrown up a handful of times since being at Midwich, usually from stepping a little too far out of the school and catching glances of Theo’s corpse in the courtyard. Perhaps just seeing it wouldn’t be enough on its own, but the smell here, the constant reek of death and decay, it just overwhelmed her senses.

But, this time was different. There was no lurid sight to provoke this nausea. Lucasta hung her head over as she violently heaved, drawing out bile long after her stomach was emptied.

It was out of nowhere. Once her stomach finally felt stabilized, she sat back up. With a bitter cringe, she spat onto the floor to try and clear the taste from her palette.

Pyramid Head was on his knees with her, and as soon as she raised from her vomiting he cocked his head at her, as a means to question. She normally only vomits from repulsion, usually by seeing her friends’ rotted corpses.

“Morning sickness.” She rasped, hating how she was able to identify it. The words were more meant for herself to confirm what she already knew, but to help him understand she brought the hand holding over her upper stomach lower, before softly patting over where her womb was. At the sound of his breathing taking a surprised hitch, she knew he understood it was from the pregnancy.

“I wish you understood just how bad this is. I get you figured out the baby part, but there’s a whole lot more that comes with it…” she spat up another mouthful of saliva, the taste of bile still not cleansed from her mouth. Sympathetically, Pyramid Head continued his gentle back rubs; Lucasta was grateful he didn’t seem repulsed by vomiting, but then again he was a killer that tortured sinners for a living. 

When she had finally finished, she pushed weakly back up to her feet, finding the miasma of decay particularly gnawing to her sinuses. It was normally horrible to begin with, but she knew morning sickness can be induced by a pregnant person’s sensitivity to smell, and felt like if she remained here she was just going to make herself sick all over again.

Agreeing with the sentiment, her stomach churned around itself, threatening her even more with that possibility.

Once up on his feet, Pyramid Head gave a short tug on her arm, before turning back in the direction of the room; a request to follow him, she had learned. Glancing down at his hands she noticed he was missing his great knife, probably leaving it behind to follow her out of the room in such a rush.

Nodding, signally to him she was coming, they returned to the room, and he yanked free his blade from the ground it was stationed at. The sharp noise of the scrapping tiles seemed particularly irritating, and Lucasta tried to brush it off as just her heightened sensitivity.

Everything here was just too much. The smells, the sounds, and even the grim atmosphere. She needed a break, just a small one, so she could refresh her senses and settle her stomach.

Lampkin Lane popped into her head, and the idea immediately earned a punishing burn in her healing knife wounds, as well as an accompanying phantom pain between her legs. She couldn’t go back there, she refused. Ghostface had salted the earth of which her few flowers of happiness had grown in this world, and she didn’t think she could ever set foot in that getaway house again.

But the other exit gate at Midwich Elementary, that one led elsewhere. The Temple of Purgation, if she wasn’t mistaken— where the air is clear and fresh. Not only that, but a refreshing drizzle of rain constantly patters down, pooling small reservoirs of water around. It has been far too long in these clothes of hers, and a bath was long overdue. Furthermore, she might just be able to kill two birds with one stone and wash Pyramid Head’s clothing as well, since he seems to not do a single thing about the grim and gore dried into his apron.

Making her intentions known, she tugged at his apron softly, before pointing out the door into the hallway.

Although he hesitated— probably in confusion, considering they had just arrived back to the room— he willingly followed her as she made her way out, going down the hallway to the exit gate opposite to the one leading to Lampkin Lane.

After reaching the gate in question, she gave another symbolic tug, before pointing towards the deep fog leading out of Silent Hill.

_You want to leave, Innocent One?_

Tilting his head down at her in question, she pointed again, insisting with a nod.

“Please. I need to get out of here for a little bit.”

The stare he held didn’t break, emphasizing his lack of understanding to her words. At least the sentiment seemed to have landed to some capacity, because after a short pause Pyramid Head returned back to her a slow shake of his head.

_You can’t leave, it’s not safe for you out there. Don’t you remember what happened last time you left?_

The gruesome images of his sweet Innocent One returning that one wretched day flashed in his mind. A speckled crimson blood trail, dotting her path from the exit gate like a constellation of stars, leading him to her. The unsteady sway as she stood, legs too fragile to be able to promise she wouldn’t fall, decorated with scarlet streaks on her inner thighs that divulged in such intimate details exactly what had happened to her to cause those bloody star drops marring her path. 

The animate startle she had when he found her, the split second of pure dread Pyramid Head could read from her body in the moment she wasn’t sure who had just walked in on her.

That empty, broken expression on her pallid face. The once-bright silver of her irises eclipsed over by an umbra of pain. 

An ache in his chest tightened up, unable to dismiss the lurid images from his mind.

His protection isn’t guaranteed out there like it is here, it simply isn't safe for her to leave Midwich Elementary. This was the place most familiar to him, and he was especially attuned to the ether here, enough so that he was more aware than anywhere else when a sinner is near. While he is capable of adjusting to a different area, it usually is not instant, and leaving his trails etched into the environment helps him detect any sinners he doesn’t immediately pick up on.

Those dark memories clouding his consciousness nearly overshadowed his focus, so much that he almost didn’t notice she was waiting earnestly for his response, hoping he'd cede and leave Midwich with her.

Grimly, he shook his head no at her.

But his sweet Innocent One didn’t understand the dangers of leaving, returning his denial with a head shake of her own, tugging insistently at his grimy apron and pointing once more into the exit gate.

“Please, just for a little bit. I need to breathe. I need some fresh air.”

Pyramid Head didn’t need to understand her words to read what she was asking, with her brow knit tight and her big silver eyes begging him earnestly. When it became apparent he wasn’t yielding, her lips twisted into a dejected little frown, frustrated and upset. 

And then, in a split second, she made a sudden dash out of the exit gate they stood at.

Perhaps she knew him too well, and took a chance on what she thought he'd do. She knew Pyramid Head would come after her, she knew he wouldn’t just let her go off by herself like this. She thought maybe she could run to the next realm, and by the time he caught her they’ll be out of Midwich. And that confidence was well-founded, at least partially; immediately reacting, Pyramid Head dropped his blade in hand and chased on after his Innocent One. 

However, the one part she was overestimating was her ability to outrun him all the way to the other realm.

Almost immediately, Pyramid Head was behind her, lunging in to pick her up with both hands under her arms, like one would to a disobedient kitten or puppy running off. It was obvious he was being conscious about his hold, and when he gently shifted his hands to move her into a bridal carry, she resisted the urge to squirm out in defiance. Even though he didn’t show it, the way his hands moved around her exposed his cautious observation of her healing stab wounds, as Pyramid Head was unwilling to cause her harm even while she was being difficult with him.

Instead, defeated and bitter over it, his little Innocent One exhaled in exhaustion, probably so certain she could’ve gotten him to chase her all the way to the next realm. Disappointed in being incorrect, she pouted in his arms, refusing to lay her head against his chest nor wrap her arms around his shoulders as he patiently carried her back to the room.

_Bold move, but that’s not going to work. You’re staying here where it’s safe._

Only upon reaching the room did he finally lean down and release her. Perhaps being a bit of a sore loser, she crossed her arms over herself, folding the blanket she wore around her body.

“It’s not fair, you don’t even have a nose. Only one of us suffers from the stench of this place.” Sitting down on the floor once freed from his cradle, she felt the miasma of decay claw once more at her sinuses, reawakening her nausea. Immediately sickened, her hand found its way back to her upper stomach, and she leaned over with a steadying breath.

Pyramid Head seems perplexed by her actions, but Lucasta was sure he had no concept of nausea. It seemed he understood vomiting to a certain capacity, at least learning from observation that it was a painful and uncomfortable ordeal, but probably had no clue what exactly causes it beside gruesome sights and pregnancies, since those are the only two causes Lucasta had vomited in front of him from. Technically she also threw up from stress back at Lampkin Lane, but that one he wasn’t there for.

Instead of retrieving his blade from where he had dropped it by the gate, he stepped back towards her and tilted his head, as if asking what was wrong.

With one arm curled around her stomach as she hunched over, she looked up at him and gestured vaguely around, before patting her lower stomach once again.

“Still morning sickness,” she said between her teeth, fighting to keep her stomach out of her throat. “This fucking sucks. I think we even had medicine for this, but of course it’s at Lampkin fucking Lane.”

Indeed, antiemetics were among the various medications collected in their storage room, but Lucasta didn’t think it was worth wasting precious space in her medkit to bring back. Instead, that room was spent on disinfectants, gauze, wound dressings, and antibiotics— of which was already dwindling what with her daily cleaning and redressing for her stab wounds.

Pretty soon, she’s either going to have to go back to Lampkin Lane to restock, or go upstairs to retrieve the medkit below Harper’s putrefying corpse. And at this point, Lucasta didn’t know which one was worse.

She shouldn’t have thought about either one, because her stomach churned violently again, but it was hard to tell if it was from the memory of Harper’s rotted body or if it was the memory of Ghostface forcing himself on her. Desperate to stave off what she could feel was coming, she held her breath as she stumbled up to her feet, dashing past Pyramid Head and out the door before collapsing onto her hands and knees well before making it to the outside doors. Heaving violently, she felt the sting of bile in her throat, stomach already emptied from earlier as she dry heaved onto the hallway floor.

She didn’t realize a cold sweat was covering her skin until she felt a warm hand on her back again. Hiccuping, she finally sat back when the worst of it had settled, the start of tears beading her eyes.

Blinking it off, she turned back up to look at him, brow knit tight in distress.

“Please, I need to get out of here. I’m begging you.” Again to emphasize her point, she pointed weakly towards the direction of the exit gate. He took a glance at it before turning back to her, a slight cock of head asking her to elaborate. 

“Out. We need to go out, just for a little bit,” tapping her upper stomach lightly, she drew a trail with her fingertip up to her throat to symbolize her vomiting, before making a broad gesture to the hallway around.

There was a short hitch in his breathing, glancing around to understand the sentiment. His gaze brought him to moldering walls and rusted lockers, along with grimy tile split and cut haphazardly from his trail making. 

When he returned his gaze back down to his Innocent One, he felt that hollow ache ricochet inside his chest, finally piecing together some of the pieces.

_Are you ill from being here? Is that why you want to leave?_

With a face still twisted in discomfort, she spat up a mouthful of residue bile onto the floor, shuddering out an exhausted sigh.

He wasn’t going to force his sweet Innocent One to remain here if it was causing her this sickness. Although he didn’t understand the semantics of human gestation, she had already cued him in that it caused vomiting, but the indication of the environment in addition to that made it seem like her pregnancy was making her more sensitive to Midwich, and hence more prone to vomiting. It made sense at least, since she has thrown up more than once here before, so Pyramid Head was already under the assumption there was something about Silent Hill that uneased her human body.

Either way, it would be cruel to force her to remain here, even if it was the safest place Pyramid Head could imagine for her. Perhaps just for a little bit, he could entertain her wishes and babysit his Innocent One on a little trip to another realm.

Cementing that decision, he finally gestured towards the exit gates himself, ceding with a nod.

_You win, Innocent One. We shall leave Midwich for a short while._

Although noticeably surprised, she seemed happy with his answer, returning to him a small grateful smile that barely broke through her expression of discomfort from her nausea.

With that, they made it back to the exit gate in question, and Pyramid Head picked up his fallen blade from the ground before it.

Pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders— since sadly it was the closest thing she had to a shirt— she led the way through the exit gate and into the foggy fields within.

Part way through the walk, she grew uncomfortable even though she knew she wasn’t heading to Lampkin Lane, and found herself slowing down until she was trailing behind Pyramid Head, like usual. It just felt more reassuring, like she needed her guardian to act as a buffer between her and this cruel world. 

Before the opposite exit gate was even in sight, she tasted sweet mist on her tongue, and the air got heavier and colder with humidity. The lingering traces of decay in the air slowly dissolved, and a familiar and pleasant aroma of pine and oak greeted her. With each subsequent step forward, that curling ache of nausea in her stomach lightened, and a newfound energy slowly filled her with a rewarding sense of relief. 

It felt so good to be away from Midwich, even if it won’t last forever. Hopefully this stolen trip won’t be their last, since the energy in her body was starting to feel recognizably like joy— a feeling she had not had in quite a long time.

By the time she reached the exit gate to the Temple of Purgation, her senses reached a blissful equilibrium, and her nausea was virtually absent. Even though the chilly air caused her to shiver, Lucasta openly embraced the light shower, happy just to have the feeling of water on her skin. Enamored, she opened up her arms and tossed her head back, twirling in the rain, with her blanket held taut between two hands as it flowed freely around her.

After being stuck in Midwich Elementary for a month, it felt absolutely divine. Each drop pattering onto her face as she twirled only encouraged her to smile wider, like she was being baptized in rain.

Curiously, Pyramid Head turned to watch his Innocent One, seeing she took great delight in the change of atmosphere. The ether here felt strange and unfamiliar, and his precise tuning to the sins around him felt blurry and dull with his inexperience with this area— usually trails around the environment helped him track down sinners in the area, but this trip was meant for his sweet Innocent One rather than him.

And what a trip it was turning out to be, changing his poor sickly girl into a joyful little dancer faster than he could imagine. It was a sight he couldn’t describe, something he wanted to keep watching, as if all that mattered in that moment was his Innocent One’s silly little twirls in the rain. A weird pang rang in his chest, but he couldn’t clearly identify what it was. It was the same feeling he felt that night she came back in tatters, and in the heat of that moment, that he had called love.

But he wasn’t a creature meant to understand love, let alone feel it. Was this what love was? Hurting deeply when a loved one is in pain, or feeling captivated when they’re in a moment of bliss?

It felt more natural to think about once he identified it. Watching her happy like this, especially after all these hard weeks of recovery, he loved it. Loved seeing her happy, and reluctant to ever take his gaze off her clumsy spins.

_Not just sinless. You’re marvelous, Innocent One. A marvelous little creature._

He mused to himself, already knowing she couldn’t hear his words.

Getting dizzy, she broke out of her twirls with a soft giggle, instinctively reaching out to Pyramid Head to stabilize herself. The sweet laugh made that pang in his chest thud harder, but he still diligently caught his Innocent One on his arm.

It was the first time he had heard that laugh, the first time he thinks he’s ever seen her filled with joy. It radiated off her, it blessed the ether with her sweet virtuous bliss. It was a feeling Pyramid Head wished would last forever.

With one arm still around her from her twirly stumble, he dropped his sword from the other, bringing his fingertip up to press up against her lips. And almost naturally, like these pseudo kisses were like any other kiss she’s had in her life, his Innocent One pursed immediately back up into his index to cement the exchange.

Another few blissful moments, another few hard pangs in his chest. Eventually they broke off, and he finally noticed that she was out of breath, probably from a combination of her spins along with their kiss.

“The Temple shouldn’t be too far from here. We can dry off in there,” she spoke softly, even though it was mainly for herself. To signal her intent though, she gestured deeper into the forest, tugging his arm invitingly. 

With a nod in agreement, Pyramid Head picked his blade back up from the mossy ground, following behind her. She seemed more confident here, probably revitalized after her little dance in the rain. It was encouraging to see her like this, and as they walked towards the Temple a part of him wondered if it was hard on her to be in Silent Hill all the time, in such a dismal place with the rotting corpses of her friends littered abound. 

The Temple was a stone monument in the heart of the misty forest. The staircase leading up into it was slicken from the rain, and Lucasta could see moss growing in the cracks stretching across the faces of each stone slab.

Careful not to slip, she gingerly stepped up the stairs, before shimmying at the top to give her damp blanket a chance to shake off some of the rain. The center floor of the Temple was indented, and stairs led down into them, as well as deeper into the basement beneath the floors. Lucasta was certain the rain had pooled down there, and hoped to use the shallows of water for a bath.

When she pointed down into the basement, Pyramid Head cocked his head in curiosity to it, before raising his blade and thrusting it down particularly hard to crack and pierce the stone flooring below. The ether around here felt clear enough that he trusted forgoing it for a little bit, especially knowing lugging around the great knife tended to make his Innocent One nervous.

Once his blade was stationed, they proceeded down together, and when she began to strip her dirty jeans and underwear to wash he grew suddenly very confused.

Lucasta had already begun to scrub her jeans into the stone steps dipping under the waterline when she noticed the awkward staring. Pyramid Head may not have eyes, but the feeling of his gaze was overwhelming in presence, leaving Lucasta to suddenly realize he probably had no clue what she was doing. To his knowledge, the only time for undressing was for sex-related reasons.

She turned to lay out her scrubbed jeans to dry, gesturing to them and back to the water.

“I have to clean them. That’s why I took them off.”

When she turned back around to do the same with her underwear, she noticed his breathing behind her had gotten deeper, and he still hadn’t moved from his position. Disregarding it, she carried on, finishing her clothes and scrubbing the blanket clean too, before laying them all out to dry.

Pyramid Head didn’t understand the gestures though, and thought maybe his little Innocent One was so comfortable in this change of atmosphere that she was inviting him to some sort of sexual activity. There wasn’t even any feeling of lust entangled in the ether for him to make this assumption, none but his own. But perhaps all these weeks of constantly holding himself back was wearing on his very fragile ability of self-control, leaving him sexually frustrated and willing to read into this interaction as a sexual invitation, even if it wasn’t there.

Not that Lucasta noticed, at least not yet. He was still too reluctant to touch her, to make the first move. Thankfully his self control was at least strong enough to hold him back from that. But in his head, if the Innocent One was initiating this sexual encounter, he was going to let her lead when she was ready.

However, that was not how Lucasta was taking this situation in the slightest.

When she turned around back towards Pyramid Head, she felt a horrible weight drop in her chest when she saw he was noticeably hard beneath his apron.

Tilting his head at her, he seemed to not be hiding it, instead seemingly confused that she was surprised. It turns out her little gestures didn’t exactly translate over like she thought they did; he had indeed thought the sudden nudity was something sexual, causing his confusion when she was taken aback.

Stumbling away haphazardly, she found herself slipping into the foot-deep pool of water, landing on the floor and pushing back on her palms to further distance herself. With a fervent shake of her head, Lucasta found her throat tightening up with a little plea— it hurt inside her neck, and despite knowing her words were falling on deaf ears, she found herself verbally begging anyways.

“N-no, no please don’t, you’re misunderstanding this,” she sputtered out, her chest seized in hyperventilation. Mentally, she tried to reassure herself— he wouldn’t act on this, he wasn’t going to do anything as long as she said no.

But did the word _‘no’_ even mean much to killers here?

The threat he made when she was Tormented rang in her head. He could be cruel, he didn’t have to listen to her wishes.

Although she was originally just shaken up at first, the memory of his threat shattered whatever sliver of composure she had, and she choked out a miserable cry.

Her sudden change in attitude made Pyramid Head aware he had indeed read this wrong, and a throb of guilt echoed around inside him. What was he thinking, was he really this sexually frustrated that he was reading between the lines this closely to try and find something that wasn’t there? Immediately, he shook his head no at her, trying to signify he didn’t mean to scare her, and was definitely not going to act on his lust if she didn’t want him to.

But the damage was already done. His exact worries over being aroused in front of her were unfolding right before him. There were no words he could say, none that would transcend their language barrier. And as for physical comfort to try and calm her down, that was surely out the window at this point.

Now she was here, naked and collapsed on the ground before him and back pressed flush up against the stone wall she had cornered herself against. Her small, fragile body was wrecked with an escalating tremor, but Pyramid Head tried to convince himself it was just from the cold of the foot-deep water she was in, and not from anything he had done to her.

It hurt in a deep, abysmal way to think that it was from him. The ache in his chest was festering in a gnawing way, almost reminding him of how the ether makes him feel when it’s tainted. It was an incessant, horrible, persistent feeling, but unlike how he cleanses the ether through forced atonement, he wasn’t sure what he could do to make this feeling go away.

Trying to level with her, he stepped down into the water, before crouching so his large frame didn’t shadow her intimidatingly. He wanted to touch her, to ground her body and still those awful-looking tremors, but she looked so fragile right now that he felt if he dared touch her skin it would crumble to pieces from his hurtful hands.

Rather than force physical contact on her, he sat down in the water across from her, only a couple feet from where she had cornered herself. Patiently, as if to convey he was not meaning to rush anything, he offered out a single open-palmed hand, as if to signify for her to lead. Whenever she feels comfortable enough to be touched, she can initiate. Until then, Pyramid Head was going to allow her to calm down until she was ready, doing nothing more than holding up his offering hand.

Her cries got short and low, as if she was trying to stifle them, and with an insecure cross of her arms around her bare chest she looked away, embarrassed.

She understood he wasn’t going to force this. And while she was eternally grateful for that, she also felt stupid for panicking so fast.

In the last month or so, he has been nothing more than an attentive caregiver to her. Perhaps it was disarming to suddenly find him aroused, but Lucasta was already certain that Pyramid Head was a very sexually frustrated creature to begin with, and wondered if he had been holding back these last few weeks just for her sake.

Swallowing down the last lingering remnants of her cries, Lucasta could feel the ache in her chest unfurling. Remembering who exactly he was to her grounded her mind back to where it belonged. Unlike Ghostface, Pyramid Head was not going to ignore her wishes, and was definitely not into the idea of her not wanting him. After all, after taking a quick glance back down into his lap, she even noticed he wasn’t aroused anymore.

Sighing, she unfolded her arms, before giving him a solemn nod. She understood he wasn’t going to hurt her, she understood she panicked over nothing.

Her hand finally raised to rest gently atop the leather of his butcher’s glove, and she finally inched closer and crawled willingly into his lap. He must’ve been surprised, because his breathing made a little hitch. A small smile stole her lips for a split moment. The noises he makes when he is surprised were always so cute to hear.

Nerves relaxed, she continued taking in her deep, calibrating breaths, laying her head against the apron over his pecs as she smother the last remnants of her hyperventilation out.

In an attempt to further her calm, she found herself thinking back to all the other times he had been kind and sweet to her. The way he held her tight as she fell asleep. The way he stationed his blade before approaching her so she didn’t feel threatened. The way he sat in front of her as she ate to make sure she finished her meals.

The way his hand rubbed her indulgently between the thighs during their foreplay.

That last thought took her off guard. Perhaps with the recent event still rattling her, sex was naturally on her mind; but even then, Lucasta was honestly baffled by her fond memories conjuring that moment to her. Yet, it still made sense: it was an amazing night, and maybe if she wasn’t in her current state she would want one again.

If anything, just so she could remember how good it felt for her consent to matter again during sex.

She swallowed drily, going back on her thoughts and reconsidering the state her body really was in. Everything besides the stab wounds have healed, and her bruises and scratches have long since been cleared from her pale skin. Honestly, if she really wanted sex right now, she was in the physical condition for it.

Which doubled her back to her other question: did she even want to have sex again? After such a triggering event she felt like the answer should naturally be no. But instead, Lucasta found that it was not a solid no she was feeling. The fond memories of their time together were perhaps just the rose-tinted glasses altering her position on this, but Lucasta was feeling inclined to conclude yes. After all, he had already shown that he was still sexually interested in her. Surprisingly respectful about it, but sexually interested regardless.

Swallowing down nervously, some part of herself inclined her further. Parts of herself she wasn’t prepared to mentally acknowledge, but acted on regardless. Leaning off his chest, she pushed up in his lap, snaking under his metal pyramid to bury her face into the crook of his neck. 

Softly, she parted open her mouth, and kissed deeply into his skin. The taste of salt and fog greeted her mouth, but the flavor wasn’t entirely unpleasant. If anything, it reminded her that much more of their night together, and exciting her enough to run her tongue along the hard muscle beneath her mouth.

Although it was obvious he was trying to stifle it, his breath shuddered in a groan. In an attempt to show her encouragement of it, Lucasta sealed her lips to the warm skin between his neck and shoulder, sucking softly. The unwieldy pyramid tilted to the opposite side as he breathlessly moaned again, as if trying to grant her more room to continue her little suckles and kisses.

Moving up off his neck for a moment, Lucasta adjusted herself in his lap to a straddle, even though the ghost of her nerves still hovered over her mind. 

When her cheek pressed against the cold metal of the pyramid above his shoulder, she leaned in as if whispering in his ear, giving him sweet little nothings that she knew will never mean anything meaningful to him.

“I know you’re not like him. I didn’t mean to get so scared, but I hope we can try again.” The border of where her thighs met the waterline sloshed when she shifted again, leaving the cool metal of his pyramid to sit down in his lap. Hopefully the sudden change in atmosphere didn’t give him a mental whiplash, because Lucasta couldn’t bear to think what would happen if he rejected her at this point. It was one thing to recognize her feelings of desire towards him again, and remembering what it’s like to trust someone intimately like this. But to come so far and be rejected, she felt she might just crumble.

The deep breathing beneath his pyramid made a sound similar to a sigh, and a very hesitant hand slowly settled onto her lower back.

_I am not sure what you want. Are you no longer scared, Innocent One?_

The skin beneath his hand felt cold to the touch, cold from the frigid water they both sat in. Her newfound confidence filled her veins, with an energy of need and lust and plain old excitement. An intimate hand found its way onto the front of his chest, feeling the hard muscle of his pecs beneath. With that his breathing hitched again, but she knew it was for a different reason this time— he understood what she wanted now.

_I see. You trust me, and now we can finally cleanse our lust together once more._

Complying with her wishes, one of his large hands ran up the small of her back, taking some initiative of his own in this.

_I only wish I could tell you how excited I am to have you again like this. You really are a marvelous little thing, Innocent One. An absolutely marvelous thing._

Her mouth met the skin of his neck again, and a sense of pleasure blossomed underneath when she sucked.

It was going to be an interesting night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For better or for worse next chapter is gonna be more Pyramid Head x OC smut. Hopefully I write it up faster than this chapter took. Let me know whatcha think with this one, took a lot of extra time on it.
> 
> Also I drew some artwork of Lucasta but I'm too nervous to post it, let me know if anyone wants to see that or not.
> 
> Until next time <3


	8. Make Me Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyramid Head and Lucasta enjoys themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just smut ahead, stay safe and have fun everyone!

She couldn’t even feel the chill of the water on her skin.

Instead, Lucasta only felt the heat. The heat of their bodies pressed up against each other, the heat of his skin beneath her mouth as she sucked her desire into his neck. The heat in the air, the feeling of need and lust radiating from the two of them.

The heat of a begging yearn between her legs, a yearn that needed to be sated by _him_.

It was crazy, wasn’t it? To think that she wanted this, that she went from her trauma being too fresh and raw to even look at, to being scarred over so thick she can fuck another killer like this. But perhaps it wasn’t yet scarred, perhaps there was still some ache lingering in her wounds, because if there weren’t she probably wouldn’t have reacted so terrified to finding Pyramid Head aroused.

Perhaps it was just instinct, as if the sudden sight of an aroused killer was just something that strikes fear into her bones. Could an instinct form after just one event? Lucasta assumed it must, because only after remembering who exactly this killer was did she calm herself down from her own fear.

For god knows what reason, Pyramid Head won’t hurt her. Even more than that, actually; he goes out of his way to help her as much as he can. Although there’s still a deep seed of resentment at him still festering inside her for slaughtering her only two friends here, Lucasta feels herself trusting him more and more each day. And that established trust is not without merit— Pyramid Head has fed her, kept her warm, and protected her for over a month. All while knowing to keep it in his pants, knowing his blatant sexual frustration would do nothing more than frighten her while she’s still so rattled from her encounter with Ghostface.

That knowledge was reassuring, and each second spent dwelling on it only stifled out more of her nerves. And instead in its place, blossoming lust arose, rewarding her for every feverish kiss she buried into the skin between his neck and shoulder.

When she felt two large hands hook beneath her upper thighs, Lucasta immediately held onto his broad shoulders, as if feeling what was already going to happen. The heavy front of his pyramid forced her to press her naked body flush up against his as he stood up, lifting her with him.

Naturally, her legs hooked around his waist, and fingers laced behind his neck. It wasn’t as if she was holding on for any actual security, though— the steady grip he had under her thighs was stable and trustworthy, and as he carried her out of the water and up the stairs to the Temple’s main floor, Lucasta didn’t doubt for a second that he could ever let her fall.

As he carried her, she heard his steady breathing ricochete inside the metal pyramid, a sound she has grown quite accustomed to over the last few weeks. It was stabilizing and comforting, and the tempo was even and predictable. Except for now, where she could hear the rhythm knit closer in breath, and his inhales sounded deeper as they reverberated in his chest. It was the closest noise he could make to express his enthrallment, his excitement, his undeniable lust. It was a noise Lucasta loved, and found comforting, if not also attractive. Hearing his need for her after seeing how respectful he was to her wishes on this brought a foundation of trust into this encounter, a foundation she was building herself off of.

He was so gentle, so cautious as he set her down on the floor, laying her onto her back. The heat covering her skin felt cooled by the stone slates, and she watched him as he reached around to undo his apron. Upon doing so, he discarded the clothing to the side, attempting to join her in nudity. 

Her eyes traced the hard muscular lines of his figure, admiring the strength and power it conveyed just by appearance.

Without realizing it, her mind already began drawing contrasts to that horrible encounter with Ghostface, in what she could only assume was an attempt to snuff out any of her lingering nerves.

Pyramid Head’s stature was broad and tall, reassuringly different in comparison to Ghostface’s shorter and leaner figure. And before her, he was stripping, removing his clothes to join her in solidarity of exposure, unlike how Ghostface ripped her clothes from her body whilst doing nothing more but unbuckling his pants to free his dick. Furthermore, the only noise Pyramid Head gave her was the steady and excited tempo of his echoing breaths, not filling the air with sick dirty talk and empty _‘darlings’_ and _‘sweethearts’_. Even this position was in juxtaposition to Ghostface’s; Pyramid Head had her laid onto her back before him, as if he wished to read her expression to assure her ongoing comfort, unlike how Ghostface had her face pressed into the flooring to keep her restrained and submitted to him as he raped her from behind.

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to keep dwelling on what Ghostface did to her while she was in a moment as sweet as this, but the stark contrasts jumped out to her like black oil paint on a clean canvas, too different to not notice. But those differences were what made her feel safe, weren’t they? 

After casting aside his apron, his hands gripped the waistline of his butcher’s trousers, before stealing a noticeable glance up at her. Although his cock was obviously straining through the fabric, betraying his arousal and lust, Pyramid Head was still checking in on her to make sure she was prepared and willingly to see him.

The sweet gesture stole her lips into a little smile, and she nodded reassuringly at him to grant permission to continue. It was nice to be asked, even if it was nonverbal like this. It was nice to have the power to grant such a permission at all.

It was nice to not have her consent stolen from her.

When he had received her approval, he wasted no time in pushing off his trousers, allowing his thick member to spring free. Lucasta felt that heat between her legs again, an undying ache that savored the slight of every vein along its length, all the way to the deep pink head peeking out from his uncut foreskin. 

She _needed_ him. She needed him so bad that she didn’t even realize her vocals were lost in a soft desperate whine, begging him with the only noise she could feasibly make in her state. And when he returned back atop her, he silenced her whines by pulling off his butcher’s gloves and giving her a gentle press of his index finger against her lips, trailing around them to gift her with his simulated kisses.

But by now, they felt so real to her. As soon as the tip of his finger met them she was already pursing her lips to receive it. And once the contact was made, Lucasta wasted no time in kissing into it deeply, entertained when the tip of his finger occasionally dipped past her lips, lovingly sucking her need into it to show her enthusiasm.

A second hand wandered down, and she could feel the calluses on his palm as it sailed over her stomach, stopping over her hipbone to knead into it teasingly.

She hiccuped in surprise, suddenly reminded of those cursed marks on her hips that led Ghostface to assault her. 

Immediately reacting to the sound, his hand retreated from her hip, and he pulled back to take a good look down at her, making sure he hadn’t frightened her. 

Her eyes softened on him, staring deep into the dull metal pyramid before her, as if apologizing.

“It’s fine. Just don’t leave bruises…” Lucasta breathlessly whispered, the words falling on ears that couldn’t understand them. And although her words were meant for herself, he seemed to be dutifully trying to find meaning in them anyways, and glanced back down at his hand.

Pyramid Head wasn’t sure what she had meant, but he took note of the light discoloration along her hips from the healed scratch marks, and figured he ought to be gentle in that area. 

Signifying that he thought he understood her words, he nodded down at her, returning a hand much lower this time to trace up her thigh with his fingertips.

Her nerves eased up, and on a shuddering sigh she focused on the feeling, disregarding her marred memories. 

And with Pyramid Head, it was easy to do, parting open her thighs to invite the hand on her elsewhere.

Enthralled, his breath hitched within his metal pyramid, and he entertained her as his hand dipped to press his two fingertips between her folds. Despite the obvious nerves he could read from her, he still found her excessively wet, sucking in a short inhale in delight that she was so excited for him.

He spread the wetness around, sliding easily with the slick, enjoying the little moans his sweet Innocent One made as he gradually began to rub gentle circles over that delicious bundle of nerves on a female’s body. The name of that special spot escaped him, but he knew it was an important part of human female sexuality, and was adamant on spoiling it if it meant gifting his Innocent One with carnal delight.

And if Pyramid Head wasn’t mistaken, human females have the ability to climax just from that special spot, and was tempted to see if he could bring that pleasure to his Innocent One without even penetrating her.

His confidence in that idea fed into his own sense of lust, finding his desire was kindled by the pleasure he gave her— the virtuous lust she filled the ether with was just too intoxicating, and so vivid he could quite literally feel her desperate need for him through it. And his goal of earning a climax from her like this might be surprisingly obtainable, too; the thighs around his hands parted open even wider for him to settle between, and the muscles in them twitched whenever he rubbed that spot with a certain tempo.

It didn’t take much before he noticed the slick she had produced had increased tenfold, finding it began to run down from her entrance and pool into a light viscous puddle beneath her. A deep groan came from his throat at the sight of it, and Pyramid Head gratefully drank in every sensual stimulation she gave him. It was overwhelming, every sense he had was filled with her: sight, sound, and even his sense of the ether. His gaze ran up and down her body, enjoying the flush color of warmth across her normally pale cheeks, and her mouth parted open in needy pants. Her soft little mewls saturated the air, backdropped by the patter of rain outside, but loud enough that he could hear her growing desperation in it. Even the perception he had to the ether around him was absolutely smothered with her— besides her pure sweet lust entangled in all of its intricacies, the object of her desire was also just as thick and palpable through it, and it felt absolutely divine to detect that object was himself.

Everything was just so much, so much pleasure, so much delight. It sent a needy throb into his cock, practically aching for her, with a noticeable dribble of precum leaking from the tip to join her in solidarity of sensual wetness.

A small hand came down to tug incessantly at his wrist, as if begging him for something. When he glanced up at her once more, he saw her silver eyes lidded in a desperate haze, whining as she gave a little push to try and get his hand lower.

A throaty rumble echoed from within his pyramid, like a delighted purr.

_You want me inside you that badly, don’t you?_

Answering him despite not even perceiving his words, his sweet Innocent One practically cried out as she gripped harder at his wrist, pushing it down towards her entrance to signify she desperately wanted Pyramid Head to penetrate her.

He felt a strange sense of euphoria from watching her so needy like this, and found himself compelled to bring his free hand up to seize her tugging one, keeping a careful yet solid grasp on her wrist and he pulled it away from his. 

The grip he had was dominatingly firm, and he relished in the sense of control he commanded over her pleasure, enjoying watching her whine and cry for him. It was still controlled enough that he was sure it wouldn’t leave a bruise, despite the tightness of his grasp.

Finally, he gave a coherent answer across their language barrier to her request; once he saw her eyes locked onto him, silver irises absolutely consumed with a plea for him to fill her, Pyramid Head returned to her a slow and teasing shake of his head.

_Not yet, Innocent One. You’ll have to come for me first if you want me to fuck you._

Absolutely enthralled when he saw her expression break, voice muddled into a string of desperate pleas in her human language, Pyramid Head felt that sense of controlled power coarse through him. It inclined him to push the wrist he held back, holding it against the floor beside her, keeping a careful observation over her needy expression to ensure it didn’t betray any discomfort or fear to the minor restraint. 

If anything, it seemed to only make her need for him that much more starved, and she tried to give a small push of her hips up against the hand rubbing over her, as if to circumvent his refusal to tease her entrance. When she found her efforts in vain, and saw Pyramid Head return nothing more but an amused yet cocky tilt of his head down at her, she whined again, the stimulation over her clit getting overwhelming.

But not a bad overwhelming. The kind of overwhelming that made her see the start of a climax barely peak over her horizons, and with her inability to convince him to penetrate her, Lucasta found her mind soaking back in her delicious memories of that night they shared together. 

Perhaps that’s what did it, since she couldn’t have it right now. Imagine how much he filled her, how aggressively he fucked her after preparing her to take him. And that she was going to get it again tonight, that she only just needed to earn it, that he was _making_ her earn it by teasing her first.

Those little twitches of her thighs escalated, and Pyramid Head heard himself rubbing circles over her so fast that it made a lewd wet sound from her slickness. And then, all of a sudden those cries met an abrupt stop, and her mouth parted open on a satisfied gasp, finally reaching her climax from his stimulation. 

Stars twinkled across her vision, blinded by absolute pleasure, and for a few moments she was drowning in euphoria. 

Carrying her through it, Pyramid Head’s circling gently slowed down to help her ride it, reading her pleasured moans and muscle twitches to determine when it began fading. And as soon as it had seemed like her orgasm had finished seizing her, her thighs abruptly attempted to close around his hand, and a much different whine captured her vocals.

He recognized it as the cry of overstimulation, and could tell that little spot was too sensitive for further attention at the moment, inciting him to withdraw both his hands— the one holding back her wrist, and the one that was pressed up between her folds. 

_This excited for me, are you? And I didn’t even put anything inside you yet._

When he stole another glance up at her, he was absolutely delighted to see her pale skin flushed from her excitement, with a light sheen of perspiration shimmering off her skin, leaving her in a pleasured afterglow that was practically radiating from her.

After the blissful remnants of her orgasm began fading and her mind began returning back from the high she was riding, his Innocent One blinked up at him thrice, before stealing a noticeable glance down at his hard cock, and back up at him with a little smile.

Those thighs parted open again once more, already prepared for a second round.

And Pyramid Head was more than eager to provide it.

Sitting back, he hooked his hands under the softness of her thighs, and pulled them up to rest atop of his own. It left her hips elevated for his convenience, and it took nothing more than a needy yank on her legs to pull her body up flush against his.

The movement made his member graze along her lower stomach, the light friction sparking pleasure so deep that it threatened his fragile self-control that kept him gentle.

Consequently, his hands gripped into her thighs a bit harder, despite trying his absolute best not to be rough with her. He pushed back on them in order to distance her hips from his, and thus making space to line up his cock.

His little Innocent One was not making it easy, though. The air was filled with her needy pants, and her fragile body still trembled from a mixture of afterglow and anticipation. It tore at his self-control even more, but Pyramid Head once again begged himself to be gentle as he shifted to guide the head of his cock against her slit, recognizing when he lined up with her warm and drench entrance. 

The deepness of her pants began to resemble moans again, the noise crumbling at his already faltering restraint. 

With a deep groan of his own, Pyramid Head eased his hips forward, finally allowing himself to slowly sink into that sweet tightness.

The Innocent One’s expression was absolutely divine— her big silver eyes fluttered open wider for a split moment, before her brows knit tight and her mouth fell open in a silent moan. Instinctively, her hands came up to wrap around his forearms from where he held into her thighs, needing something to grip onto.

When he had finally finished pushing his hips up flush against hers, Pyramid Head’s breath rumbled into a pleasured groan, giving her a couple seconds to settle into the stretch. It was intense, especially with as thick and large as he was, and even after she had adjusted to his girth her walls still clung delightfully tight around him.

From where her hands gripped hard into his forearms, she could feel him slightly tremble, and realized he was still desperately holding himself back. But she was ready, and aching for him to go hard like she knew he wanted to; Lucasta figured the combination of her encounter with Ghostface coupled with her little panic attack in the water was probably cautioning him to contain himself. To hold back, lest he scares her.

But she didn’t want him to hold back. She wanted him to fuck her. _Hard_.

Desperately, her hands gripped harder into his arms, and she could feel his tense muscle beneath her fingertips. When the front of his encumbering pyramid caught her gaze, she quickly nodded her encouragement to release himself from his own self-control, with a face so flushed with desire that there’s absolutely no way he could’ve mistaken it.

And then, that little hitch in his deep breathing. 

He recognized what she wanted.

He didn’t need to hold back.

Suddenly, that self-control withered almost instantly, and Pyramid Head yanked back his hips until the head of his cock rested at her entrance, before giving a savage thrust back into her. 

The sensation of sudden emptiness contrasted with his intense fill made her yelp— a good yelp, the kind that caught her vocals in surprise to how insanely sating it felt to have his thick cock buried inside her, to have him press right up against the limits of what her body can comfortably accommodate.

The noise only encouraged him more, yanking back his hips to give another brutal thrust, practically rattling her tiny body. 

Her hands gripped tight into the skin over his forearms, needing something to hold onto to stabilize herself, to ground herself as she got railed so hard she couldn’t even focus. It almost felt primal, the mindset she was settling into, like the horrors of this demented reality had faded away from existence, and the sickening simulacrums of the Entity’s creation were no more. 

Just in this moment. It captured her mind in a haze; a delightful, beautiful, but oh-so ignorant haze.

Each time he hilted himself, she felt the sensation send a zip of electricity down her legs, making her thighs feebly tremble. The feeling kindled with every thrust, every brutal slam of his hips into hers, and with it she felt the haze cloud over her mind thicker. Clouding over all the horrors she had endured, blocking out every miserable moment in this dreary place. 

She could forget her friends were dead, she could forget the afterburn of their putrefied corpses from her mind’s eye. She could forget she was letting a merciless killer fuck her, forget the monster bringing her this pleasure had also brought death to Theo and Harper. She could even forget the sadistic Ghostface, forget all the nauseating dirty talk he filled the air with as he raped her, forget the visceral pain tearing through her body as he forced himself inside.

Even the pregnancy, the horrible result of his brutality. Forgotten in this sweet moment of escape.

 _Escape_. That’s what it felt like.

She could forget, and forget, and forget. It all didn’t matter, not now at least. The only feeling in her body is pleasure, and her mind was too marred and devastated to allow this sacred feeling to spoil, even just a little.

Perhaps it was the way her eyes appeared, as they looked up to him desperately to keep going. Maybe their gaze was growing a bit glassy, hinting at her blissful trace-like amnesia. It must’ve been, because at the notice that Lucasta may not all be there in her head did Pyramid Head slow his brutal pacing, devolving into gentle yet deep rocks into her body as he tilted his head down at her in question.

_You’re looking lost, Innocent One. Is this too fast for you?_

Blinking thrice back up at him in confusion, she shook her head fervently, her pleasured moans melting into deeper whines in order to beg him to continue hard like he was going before. And although her sentiment was obvious, Pyramid Head still hesitated, despite his own heated lust trying to coax him to comply.

But she didn’t want to be grounded back to Earth— or whatever monstrous mimicry this place was to Earth. Lucasta needed so desperately to forget, she needed everything to just not be real for a few moments. And driving that desire home, she once again cried out for him, her feeble fingers digging tight into the skin of his forearms, ever-so-slightly tugging on his arms to indicate her lascivious desires needed to be sated. 

There was a moment of pause, a delay in his acknowledgment. But, in the vacant air between them where eye contact would normally fill, she felt his recognition to her desire, and watched as he ceded with a throaty rumble in his chest.

Maybe the noise was in defeat, that his wellness checkup was unneeded or troublesome to her. Or maybe the noise was in doubt, not fully convinced she truly was in the best mindset, but a bit too blinded by lust to press her on it.

Either way, her compliance was enough to convince his fragile self-control, regardless of the question of her mental state. If she wanted this fast and hard, then he will deliver.

As if there was no cooldown from his initial pacing, Pyramid Head pulled back his cock until the head rested at her entrance, before giving a vicious slam back in to the hilt; when she squeaked in delight to the sensation again, he felt marginally more reassured.

It didn’t take long before he continued his initial strength and speed once more, and Lucasta felt the alluring foreshadow of a climax lurk closer the deeper she slipped into her dissociation. It only drew her moans that much higher in pitch as he buried his cock inside her, feeling her insides clench deliciously tight around him as he did so. It was as if her walls were begging to keep him inside, clinging onto him and pleading for more. Pyramid Head released a groan of his own, feeling himself getting dangerously close as well.

Perhaps the combination of his pent-up sexual frustration alongside her consent for him to go hard made his better judgement fail him, and Pyramid Head found himself getting a little too rough as he drew closer to climax. 

Large hands clenching harder around her thighs to grip, he began using his hold to violently pull her down onto his cock, hilting himself so deep that he slammed into her cervix; she felt as if there ought to be a bit of pain with it, yet she didn’t feel a thing. Honestly, there very well might have been and she just didn’t notice, with how blinded by pleasure she was. Blinded by pleasure and perhaps a bit too detached from reality to quite notice if any smidgen of pain were aching her insides.

And then, suddenly on a particularly brutal thrust, she felt her pleasure peak in a divine moment of climax, mouth falling open on a satisfied moan as her body shuddered through it. With the intense and spasming orgasmic clenches of her walls around him, the extra stimulation became overwhelming for Pyramid Head, being enough to draw out a climax from his own body as well.

A deeply satisfied groan ricocheted inside his metal pyramid as his blunt fingertips dug mercilessly into the soft flesh of her thighs, keeping himself buried deep into her as he came. There were only a few short, jagged thrusts during his climax, just to encourage every ounce of cum to come out, enjoying the idea of filling her up with his inhuman ejaculate. Perhaps what aroused him about it was her enjoyment of being filled with his cum, as she seemed to be delighted in watching him finish inside her. After all, there was no consequence for him _not_ to finish inside— there was double reassurance that not only was she already pregnant, but his seed was biologically sterile, thus unable to cause any kind of fertilization, human or not.

Only once he had drawn out the last drop did he withdraw with a satisfied sigh, sitting back and taking in the sight of her radiating glow.

With big, blown pupils framed by the thin encircling of her silver irises, her eyes practically beamed up at him, without him even needing to glance over at her mouth to read she was smiling. The evidence of her orgasm was fragmented over her body, from the way her cheeks were flushed with a pleasant rosy color, all the way to the light sheen of sex-driven perspiration coating her skin.

When he leaned back against the Temple’s grand stone walls to relax, he was surprised how quickly she came up to cuddle against him. After the flames of their lust had cooled though, it left the air frigid once more, and he felt through the contact of their bare skin that the cold was already gnawing into her tiny frame. It made sense she was desperate for warmth, and even cuddles; after the amount of energy their delightful exploit had expended, it was only natural for the human one between them to be drained and fatigued, only serving to encourage her more to rest against him.

Not that Pyramid Head was going to complain, enjoying this moment of relaxation alongside her, despite not needing the actual recuperation for energy. After she had climaxed for the second time, it seemed like she was finally grounded once more, and that glaze of uninhibited dissociation was gone from her eyes. Forgotten no more were the tragedies of this place, and after not even a half hour had passed did Lucasta sit up with a shuddering sigh.

Although the fresh bruising around her thighs felt tender, and her insides were still jostled and unsettled from everything, she still swayed up to her feet with a calibrating stumble. With her high faded from her, she finally noticed a soft yet deep ache within herself, almost a cramping-like pain, realizing after a moment that her cervix was sore. It wasn’t a surprise; towards the end he was going brutally hard, just like she had asked him to, and failed to realize when it was too much for her body.

Dissociation during sex could be dangerous with a monster like him. She was sure he could shatter her pelvis if he went as hard as he wanted, he had already shown her when she was Tormented what brutality he was capable of. Though thankfully he seemed invested in doing her no harm, and thus probably only went as hard as he thought her human body could reasonably handle; if not for her haze, he probably would’ve stopped once he’d realize he was hurting her.

But the cramping wasn’t so bad that she was going to draw attention to it, and the pleasure she got in return was fair enough compensation to deal with it. Nevertheless, she did have to grit her teeth slightly as she rose on her feet, making sure he didn’t notice her soreness.

Almost immediately when she stood, the monster cocked his encumbering metal pyramid to the side, before attempting to stand up himself— only to be interrupted by Lucasta’s hand on his shoulder, a quick shake of her head insisting for him to stay.

“Bathroom. I’ll be back, I won’t stray far.” to supplement the lack of meaning in her words to him, she gave a quick gesture down over her lower stomach where her bladder would be around, hoping he understood that she needed a restroom break and that she wasn’t trying to indicate her pregnancy to him. But, already familiar with her human bodily needs by now, he accepted with an acknowledging nod before relaxing back against the wall, watching her descend down the short flight of stairs into the watery basement to retrieve her dried blanket. After tugging it needily around her shoulders for warmth, she gave a reassuring nod to Pyramid Head once more, as if a silent promise she won’t be long. Normally he would never allow her off on her own, but he has learned from her that humans don’t seem to like company when they are relieving their bodily needs. He had been shooed out of the room plenty of times to get the message, after all.

He must’ve been in a bit of a haze of his own though, finally sating the culminating sexual frustration inside him after all these weeks. Perhaps his relaxing afterglow coupled with his lack of familiarity with this realm made his senses dulled and unfocused, not paying close attention to the environment— particularly the ether— around him.

So when the presence of a sinner entering the area rippled across the either, it tragically went unnoticed by Pyramid Head. And he wasn’t aware in the slightest when that sinner stumbled right upon his sweet Innocent One out in the woods.

It wasn’t another killer, though— it was a man Lucasta had never met before.

Something she hasn’t seen in months, at this point.

A fellow survivor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really struggled on this smut chapter, hope it was still enjoyable <3
> 
> Let me know if I should continue sprinkling in the occasional smut or if I should stay focused on the plot! Could do either, I think I need practice in both lmao
> 
> Also for all who is interested, [here is the link for a drawing of Lucasta I did](https://drawing079.tumblr.com/post/644167617283801088/dead-by-daylight-oc-i-have-for-a-fic-im-writing). Trigger warning for blood & bruises.
> 
> Until next time <3


End file.
